Happy Christmas, Harry Potter
by michelle-31a
Summary: Harry takes a break in the Great Horcrux Hunt for Christmas. He’s pessimistic and quickly losing hope. Luna’s there with a gift and comfort. Written for the Loonies & Lions ficathon.
1. Chapter 1

Happy Christmas, Harry Potter

Harry sighed as he felt the familiar rumble of a passing train reverberate throughout his room. He closed his book and looked at the time: It was nearing four o'clock. He stretched his arms and stifled a yawn; he was exhausted. Rumagging through endless books in the name of research was one of Hermione's specialties, not his.

He drank the last of his orange juice and glanced around his simple accomodations at the Leaky Cauldron; he'd been in the exact same room some four years earlier, shortly after he'd blown up his Aunt Marge and taken his first harrowing ride in the Knight Bus. The room was exactly as he remembered it. It was nice to see some things hadn't changed in these complicated times.

He smiled tiredly – things had been so much simpler back then, although it had hardly seemed so at the time.

Indeed, looking back on that day, he'd been at his wit's end, what with being on the lam from the authorities and without so much as a place to call home. Still, Harry found himself wishing he could go back to that time in his life, when his shoulders weren't so oppressively weighed down with the responsibilities of the wizarding world. But, alas, as Professor Dumbledore might have said, it was not to be.

Harry sighed as he ran his hands through his permanently mussed up hair. He felt old. Old before his time. He wouldn't be surprised if he started turning grey before long. At least, assuming he survived the coming months...

He pushed back his chair with a squeak and made his way to his trunk, his feet treading the worn wooden floor lethargically. He paused there a moment before bending over and gazing into the dark shadows underneath his bed. He didn't really expect to find his old copy of _Monster Book of Monsters_ snapping away at him again, but for some reason he'd felt compelled to look.

There was nothing to be found, obviously, except for an old knut and a collection of dust bunnies that would've undoubtedly made Aunt Petunia recoil in horror. He supposed he should be thankful, really, that he didn't have to go through the hassle of subduing an enraged, snapping, out-of-control tome again.

He drew himself back up. _I can't believe it_, he thought to himself. _I'm seventeen...how can I be nostalgic?_

He roughly grabbed his coat off the bed and glanced outside; the snow showed no signs of letting up. He supposed it would thrill the Muggles, having a fresh carpet of snow on Christmas Eve, but he was having difficulty in sharing their enthusiasm.

He glanced again at his watch. He supposed he really should get going; the Weasleys were probably expecting him, after all.

So why was he standing in the middle of his room, coat in hand, with no real eagerness to leave?

He could try and delude himself that he still had one last Horcrux to find, but as he had as yet no clue as to its location, galavanting off into the countryside would be an excercise in futility. But in truth, he was not looking forward to visiting the Burrow this year; the situation with Ginny was becoming more uncomfortable as time went by; awkward, even. And being cooped up in a crowded house over the Christmas holidays only promised to make matters worse.

Much as he loved the Weasleys, he didn't want to be the centre of attention at the Burrow, as he knew he surely would be were he to attend. No, he'd much preferr to melt into the background without any fuss being made over him.

But then, he realized with chagrin, they'd undoubtedly worry about him if he didn't come.

With a sag of his shoulders he slipped into his boots and slowly made his way to the door. The floo portal in the Leaky Cauldron's fireplace hadn't been working all day for reasons unknown, but he could always try the one at Flourish & Botts. He found himself half wishing that the bookstore's would be down, too...

He turned the handle and opened the door, almost jumping at the sight of the figure before him as he instinctively reached for his wand.

"Gah! – _Luna!_"

For a moment in time she stood frozen in place, evidently equally taken by surprise, her hand raised in a clear pose to knock on a now absent door.

"Hello," she said finally, smiling dreamily as she lowered her hand. She'd clearly just arrived from outside; her pale cheeks imbued with the telltale pink hue of someone having recently come in from the cold.

Harry gaped at her. "Luna...hi," he said, as though needing to convince his disbelieving eyes that the figure standing before him was indeed that of Luna Lovegood. "I didn't know you were here -- when d'you get in?"

"Just a little while ago," intoned Luna in the familiar singsong voice that Harry found oddly comforting. "I thought I'd stop in and see how you were getting on." She glanced at his coat and boots. "Were you leaving?"

"Er, yeah," said Harry a bit dispiritedly. "I'm supposed to spend Christmas at the Burrow – well not really _supposed_, but – "

Luna nodded vaguely. Whether she knew of Harry's misgivings or not, he couldn't tell. "Yes, Ginny mentioned that they were going to have quite a large get-together for Christmas," she intoned serenely. "Which reminds me..."

She rummaged through her bag and pulled out a small parcel. It was neatly wrapped in a silky black paper speckled with a night sky motif and topped with a sparkling silver bow. She handed it to Harry.

"Happy Christmas, Harry," she intoned melodically. She took a half step back. "It was very nice seeing you again."

Harry took a step forward in reflex. "Hey, wait – are you going already?"

"Yes," replied Luna with a quirky smile. "You're leaving for the Burrow, aren't you?"

Harry hesitated. He was genuinely glad to see Luna again. "I s'pose, but – Luna, I feel bad taking this...I didn't get you anything."

Luna slowly shook her head in disbelief. Gifts don't have to take physical form for me to cherish them any less," she said as though surprised at having to explain it. "You're funny, Harry."

"Huh?"

Luna smiled and pointed to the small box in his hands. "You musn't open that before midnight," she said airily. "That would upset the Christmas Fairy, and you wouldn't want to get on her bad side, would you?. You'd be liable to get a box of dusty old vulture beaks instead."

Harry shuffled his feet awkwardly. "Um, well thanks, Luna," he said, holding the box to his ear and giving it a gentle shake. "What is it?"

Luna tilted her head slightly. "Well, if I told you it would defeat the purpose of the wrapping, wouldn't it?" she voiced. "Anyway...Happy Christmas, Harry!"

With a smile and a wave of her hand, she drifted off down the stairs, and was gone.

Harry stared at the now empty corridor. He found himself wishing he hadn't been going to the Burrow altogether. He truly missed the Ravenclaw, eccentricities and all. Just the sight of her had raised his spirits, if only briefly.

He glanced down at Luna's gift, deciding he'd open it upon his return. As he carefully placed it atop his nightstand, he felt a his heart twinge. _That Luna..._

He gazed at the small box and wondered as to its contents. Surely it couldn't be one of Luna's magical creatures, given her request not to open it until midnight; there were no air holes, and he seriously doubted Luna would risk suffocating one of her esteemed magical beasties. He was now genuinely curious; knowing Luna, there really was no way to predict what might lay inside.

He glanced back to the window. The snow was still coming down without letup, though at least it was slowly drifting down slow and straight – there was no significant wind to disrupt the serene cascade of large, fluffy flakes. He sighed; there had been a time, not so long ago, when he'd have run outside to play in such conditions. His snowball fights with Ron in Hogwarts' wintry courtyard seemed like such a distant memory now...

But melancholy wasn't unique to Harry these days. Everyone was strangely lifeless of late; the death of Professor Dumbledore appeared to have wrenched all hope from the wizarding world. His friends all tried to put on brave faces in the face of such gloomy prospects, but Harry knew...he could tell from looking in their eyes: they were terrified. And they had every reason to be.

And in truth, so was he.

Even Fred and George were unusually subdued, selling their wares to the few brave customers without much of their typical enthusiasm. Indeed, these dark times had taken their toll on everyone. Harry sighed and made to leave.

He paused at the door.

_Except Luna..._

He thought back. She'd cried immediately after Dumbledore's funeral, he remembered clearly – she'd been affected just like everyone else by his passing, that much was obvious. But she'd been seemingly immune to the prevalent despair that had followed.

Harry bit his lip. He hadn't even asked her how she was spending her holidays. Evidently she wasn't going to the Burrow...

Just as he touched the door handle Harry heard a very faint, melodic singing coming from outside his window. Curious, he went back and peered through the snow-freckled glass just in time to see Luna, a little way up the alley, ducking what appeared to be an old boot thrown at her from the second stroy of one of the old, narrow houses that lined the street. Luna, far from taking offense, simply drifted a bit further up the way and started singing anew. Harry went to open the window only to have it jam halfway up; nonetheless he was able to crouch down enough to put his ear to the outside air. Though very faint, he could just make out a familiar melody: Christmas carols?

He slowly drew up and pushed the window back down, the old wood creaking in protest before finally falling back to the sill with a bang. He looked over at Hedwig, who was gazing back at him curiously.

Why was Luna going around carolling, he wondered. He'd fully expected her to have been invited, just as he was, to spend the holidays at the Burrow. At the very least he'd have thought she'd be at home by now, enjoying Christmas with her beloved father.

No, something was awry, he could feel it. He took a deep breath and made a decision.

He quickly bent over the small desk and scribbled a quick note:

_Hi guys,_

_Listen, I'm going to be a bit late, might not make it till after Christmas, so don't worry about me._

_Harry_

"I know it's Christmas and all," said Harry soothingly to Hedwig as he wrapped the tiny note around her leg, "but I really need you to deliver this to the Weasleys, otherwise they'll get worried sick. You know Molly."

Hedwig hooted in understanding. As Harry released her to the elements, he supposed that a trip to the Burrow wasn't especially displeasurable to her on Christmas Eve, owls having little use for such frivolities as calendars.

Harry buttoned his coat and hurried downstairs, giving a quick nod to old Tom tending behind the bar on his way out. He dashed up the slippery sidewalk, catching sight of Luna a couple of blocks up the narrow street. She was slowly meandering away from him.

Harry broke out in a run; through the thickly falling snow one figure looked much like any other at this distance and he could easily lose sight of her. He wished he'd remembered to bring his mittens –

"Luna! Wait up!"

Luna turned just as he caught up to her, her silver eyes wide in surprise. "Harry?"

"Hi," said Harry as he removed his glasses to shake off the large snowflakes which had quickly coated his lenses during his run. "You didn't have to leave right then, I wasn't in any rush. I haven't seen you in months...how are things at school?"

Luna stared at him blankly, apparently not noticing, or caring, that her long sandy blonde hair was becoming increasingly caked with snow. "Oh, it's all right, I suppose," she said vaguely, seeming to consider him as she answered. "Most of the students seem a bit wary of Professor Sanguini, but he teaches well enough. It's not really the same without you there, though. And Professor Dumbledore. And Quidditch. Anyway...are _you_ all right? I thought you were leaving?"

"Yeah, I, er, was," replied Harry as he re-donned his glasses. "But, y'know, I haven't seen you in a while..."

Luna tilted her head slightly.

"But listen," he continued, "where are _you_ going? I heard you from my room. What were you doing, singing?"

Luna nodded. "Carolling, actually."

Harry looked around them. There were no Yule decorations to be seen; indeed, it was as if the locals had all somehow forgotten all about Christmas entirely.

"Caroling?" asked Harry as a rickety old lorry slowly drove by them along the street, its engine sputtering; it seemed as if it had just been liberated from a museum. The back was filled with Christmas trees protruding from the end, pine needles shaking free and dropping into the snow as it went.

"Yes, I haven't gone carolling since before Hogwarts," she said Luna. "It was quite enjoyable, you know. Mum had a lovely singing voice but she wasn't terribly familiar with these Muggle songs, so sometimes we'd make them up on the spot – it was very funny."

She gazed around at the sombre-looking buildings that lined the street. "There seems to be no Christmas spirit this year, have you noticed?" she asked sadly, waving her hand vaguely at the dreary alley. "Even among the Muggles. I thought I'd try and bring them a bit of holiday cheer, even without Mum, but they don't seem very receptive."

"Yeah, I saw the boot," said Harry, a twinge of anger rising within him at the recollection. "I think you came across an Ebenezer Scrooge-type there. But listen, I meant where are you going after this? You're not coming to the Burrow?"

Luna shook her head but said nothing.

They stared at each other for several moments. Though Luna was by nature a very confounding person to read, Harry had come to know her better than most. But this time there was no doubt – something was definitely wrong.

"Is everything okay?" he asked in genuine concern.

Luna gazed at him in silence, a wisp of a smile coming across her pale features.

"Luna, what's wrong?" asked Harry, his worry increasing with Luna's silence. "I won't tell anyone, I promise. Friends, remember?"

At that, Luna's expression changed to one of great fondness. "Yes, I do remember," she said softly.

Harry remembered, too. His outing with Luna the previous Christmas had been a very enjoyable experience; indeed, he'd come out of it with a newfound appreciation for his friend's uniqueness.

Luna absent-mindedly twisted a few damp locks around her finger. "Daddy's not going to be back in time for Christmas," she announced quietly. "He's stuck in Copenhagen, you see, and with the Floo network being sabotaged, it's too far to apparate safely."

"The Floo's been sabotaged?" asked Harry, stunned. He hadn't been aware of this major news.

"That's right," affirmed Luna serenely. "I heard some people talking about it outside Olivander's earlier."

Harry swore under his breath. Despite the seriousness of this information, there was very little he could do about it – and in any event the Ministry were undoubtedly already knee-deep in investigating the matter.

One look at Luna brought him back to the principal matter of concern. "Can't he come some other way?"

Luna shrugged sadly. "He did try to arrange a Muggle flight, but as it turns out, they're prohibitively expensive, did you know? He doesn't know how they manage it, really. But then the aeroplanes apparently aren't allowed to leave in these conditions anyway, so he's going to have to wait it out."

"Oh," said Harry sympathetically. "Luna, I'm sorry. That's really tough...you must've been really looking forward to seeing your Dad."

"I must confess I was a little disappointed," she admitted. "But there's a few days left before school starts up again, so we'll still have some time together."

"Yeah," echoed Harry, looking up at the falling snow, his lenses immediately becoming obscured by several large flakes. "This stuff can't last forever."

"It's nice though, isn't it?" mused Luna as she joined Harry in his skyward gaze.

They both stood there for a while staring up at the heavens, the large flakes slowly drifting downwards in an infinitely grand waltz. When Harry looked back down to Luna friend he found his sight almost completely obscured; he could hear her light titter of amusement as he tried to make her out through his snow-caked glasses.

"I think you need a snow-repellent charm on those," voiced Luna airily.

"Yeah, really," agreed Harry, removing his glasses and wiping them with his sleeve. "You wouldn't know of any, would you?"

"Yes," answered Luna, "Daddy's been using one for years – he's bespectacled also. But I'm still underage, so I'm not allowed. I can teach it to you though, if you like."

"Are you kidding?" said Harry as a fresh glot of flakes fell onto his glasses just as he re-donned them. "I'm practically blind here...let's have it!"

Harry drew his wand just as Luna carefully removed his glasses, holding them at arm's length before him. "For safety," said Luna, smiling.

"Good thinking," said Harry in turn with a grin.

"Now wave your wand as if you were tracing an infinity symbol through the air," instructed Luna.

Harry raised his wand and suddenly froze. They were in the middle of a Muggle street – if they were seen –

"Don't worry," voiced Luna, as if sensing his thoughts. "No one can see clearly more than a few yards in this snow. From a distance they'll just think it's battery-operated."

Harry chuckled. "They'll think I opened my Christmas present early."

Luna tilted her head slightly as Harry waved his wand in the form of the number eight. "Like that?" he asked.

"Yes, but horizontally," corrected Luna.

"Oh, right..."

Harry repeated the movement, this time along a horizontal plane.

"And say '_Occulus Nivelis Impedemento_' at the same time," continued Luna, holding Harry's glasses very steadily by the bridge, although turning her head away as if half expecting them to explode.

Harry did as instructed, and for a brief moment his glasses glowed a very faint azure hue before reverting to their natural gunmetal finish. Luna looked back and held the glasses up to gray-white sky for inspection.

"First try," she mused softly, gazing at the clear lenses. "You are quite good at this sort of thing, aren't you..."

Harry leaned his head forward as Luna carefully slipped his glasses back on. The difference was astonishing – the silvery hue of Luna's large eyes, the texture of her near-ghostly skin, the tiny crystalline patterns of large snowflakes against the weave of her Ravenclaw scarf – he could see as well as he could indoors!

"Wow," he said in amazement as Luna pulled back after making sure his glasses were securely in place. It was at that moment he saw it – a flash of white covering her left wrist, visible for but an instant.

"Hey! What happened to you?"

"Hmm?"

"Your arm!" blurted Harry, pointing at her limb. "Is that a cast? What happened?"

"Oh...yes, I had a bit of a mishap," stated Luna simply, looking at her wrist as though only now noticing her injury. "It's much better now, though."

"But...how'd it happen?" prodded Harry.

"Well, I was tobogganing with Hermione," said Luna. "I'd managed to convince her of its therapeutic properties, you see, but then the last hill we picked was home to a lair of Thrumpins. Well, they weren't very happy about that, as it turns out...we took a quite nasty spill. I suppose we should have brought along some hickory beads to ward them off, but we didn't know."

"Oh," said Harry, as surprised at hearing of Hermione tobogganing as the Thrumpins' retribution.

"But why the cast?" he inquired. "Didn't Madam Pomfrey have a look at it?"

"She did," said Luna dreamily, "but it happened only a few days ago, and she felt it best to take every precaution, seeing as I wouldn't be spending the holidays at Hogwarts – oh, look – "

She caught sight of an exceptionally large snowflake and scampered after it, very nearly running into a large streetside mailbin in the process.

"I've missed it," she said, looking off into the drifting curtains of snow. "It was such a lovely one, too..."

She turned and trained her large silver eyes on Harry.

"I'm not very fond of bone-healing medicines," she stated, patting her midsection. "I think they taste rather terrible, don't you?"

Harry couldn't help but chuckle; his memories of ingesting Pomfrey's horrid-tasting Skele-Grow potion in his second year echoed very much Luna's observation.

"Yeh, that's probably by design," he joked. "To discourage people from getting into accidents and all just to taste the stuff, you know."

Luna smiled. "I suppose that makes sense. Don't you want to go to the Burrow?"

Harry ogled Luna before shaking his head vigorously in utter stupefaction. Had he somehow momentarily blacked out and missed part of their conversation? He decided he hadn't – Luna had clearly not lost her knack for startling deviations.

He shrugged. "I just don't feel very...Christmasy, I guess," he said morosely. "And the place is going to be packed, besides. I don't know, I wanted to take a couple of days off from all this, but I don't think I'll be able to do that at the Weasleys'. To tell you the truth, I'm starting to think that spending Christmas here might let me recharge my batteries. I really need it."

"Mr. Weasley is apparently quite good with batteries," voiced Luna thoughtfully. "He collects them, you know." Whether she'd misinterpreted his remark or had simply gone off on one of her tangents, Harry couldn't tell.

"No, I didn't mean Muggle batteries," corrected Harry. "It's more of an expression...I meant...um..."

Luna smiled. "Yes, I do know what you meant," she voiced airily. "You feel that staying at the Burrow won't be very restful for you."

"Yeah," said Harry, relieved. "That's it, exactly. Don't get me wrong, I love the Weasleys, but...well, you know..."

He looked at Luna. Though she said nothing, Harry instinctively knew she understood everything he was going through. He was profoundly grateful in the knowledge that Luna would always be there, on his side and forever his friend. It was strange, really – there were times when he'd felt as though this entire war would pass Luna by as a river might flows past a jutting boulder. Indeed, despite all her eccentricities and odd mannerisms, or even perhaps because of them, this paradoxical girl had become one of the anchors that kept him connected to the little joys and wonders of life.

He felt a painful twinge in his heart; this girl did not deserve to be alone at Christmas. He took a deep breath.

"Well, you're welcome to come spend Christmas at my home, if you like," offered Luna.

Harry shifted slightly. "Um...I was going to ask you the same thing," he said, smiling sheepishly.

Luna looked genuinely surprised.

"You were?"

"Yeah," replied Harry, lightly kicking at some snow on the walk. "Well not at the Dursleys, I mean, but..."

Luna's mouth was open slightly. Harry did a double take – he wasn't sure, as it could have been a trick of the falling snow, but it looked as though Luna's eyes had gotten a little watery.

"...but if you'd rather, y'now...hey, are you okay?"

Luna slowly smiled. "Yes," she said very softly. "But I did ask you first."

"At your place?"

Luna nodded. "That's right," she replied. "It's in Devonshire, not very far from the Weasleys, actually. There's only Nevermore home today, and he's no trouble at all."

Harry blinked. It took him a second or two to place the name: Nevermore was the Lovegood's post owl – or rather, post raven.

"Yeah, I think I'd like that," said Harry finally. "To be honest I really miss hearing about the latest _Quibbler_ stuff; I haven't had time to read much of anything lately with everything going on...maybe you could fill me in what I've missed..."

"You mean you haven't heard about Scrimgeourgate?" asked Luna in a tone of disbelief.

"Scrimgeour...gate?" repeated Harry, scratching the back of his head. "Um, I don't think so...what's it about?"

Luna was taken with new energy. "It's the latest scandal to rock the Ministry," she said, her eyes popping excitedly. "You remember Stan Shurnpike? Daddy helped reveal the story about how he'd been wrongly – "

Off in the distance, London's huge clock tower began to ring out the hour. Luna's huge eyes widened even further.

"Four o'clock!"

"Eh? What's so – "

But before Harry could say anything more, Luna had grasped his hand and was rushing back up the street, Harry in tow. For one who normally drifted about so serenely, Harry was frankly shocked to see her sprinting as though she were being chased by a horntail.

"Hey – what's – Luna, where we – " stammered Harry as he struggled to keep up.

"The Knight Bus!" exclaimed Luna breathlessly as they passed the Leaky Cauldron's entrance. "It's their last run of the day – if we hurry – "

As though on cue, the garish purple form of the Knight Bus emerged from the snow-shrouded air just as they reached the crossway, the steaming three-tiered contraption coming to an abrupt stop directly before them despite the snow-covered roadway.

So sudden had been its appearance that Luna barely avoided running headlong into it, somehow managing to skid to an teetering halt. Her stop was very shortlived, however, as Harry's boots slipped in the snow so that his feet knocked Luna's out from under her, sending them both flipping backwards to land in a heap at the bus' front door.

"_Eep!_"

"_Oof!_"

"Oi – wotcher doin' down 'ere?"

Through the mess of tangled limbs, scarves and flyaway hair, Harry could just barely make out the figure of Stan Shurnpike, evidently freed from his wrongful incarceration, ogling them from the lower step of the Knight Bus. As for Stan's words however, Harry could not fathom, what with Luna laughing hysterically in his ear.

Then, for the first time in many months, Harry did something he'd once thought he'd never be of a mind to do again.

He began to laugh.


	2. Chapter 2

Happy Christmas, Harry Potter

Part Two

Harry was in better spirits than he'd been in ages. Though the ride in the Knight Bus had been as harrowing as ever, Luna's presence had transformed it into an actually enjoyable experience; having the entire passenger compartment to themselves, Luna had come up with the idea of a rather chaotic triple-decker game of tag. Of course, given the bus's trademark wild manoeuvres, the pursuer ended up as often bowled over by the persuee.

All this meant they'd ended up with their fair share of bumps and bruises, to the point where Harry had expressed concern for Luna's healing wrist; Luna, strangely, had exhibited a mind-boggling lack of concern.

"Oh, it'll be fine...this is fun!" she laughed, a fraction of a second before striking Harry with an involuntary headbutt following one of the Bus' screeching stops.

Harry couldn't quite remember the sequence of events immediately following his being knocked halfway senseless; he did vaguely recall groggily picking himself off the floor and catching a glimpse of Luna scurrying up the narrow staircase to the bus' third deck, apparently having considered her accidental headbutt to have been a proper tag.

Harry was sore and aching all over by the time they'd disembarked. He was sure he'd wake up in the morning to find half a dozen bruises scattered over his body. Yet here he was, walking through shin-deep snow feeling strangely giddy: Luna had a decided knack for making the simplest things enjoyable.

She led him down a narrow country lane; Harry was struck at how she seemed to drift along the snow rather than trudge through it -- though she seemed to leave tangible enough footprints. Indeed, such was her meandering such that to anyone following it would seem as though she were wandering about aimlessly.

They'd both been silent since disembarking from the bus; normally Harry would feel a need to try and make conversation lest it turn into an awkward situation, but such was not the case with Luna. True, in her company he felt at times perplexed -- even occasionally bewildered, to be sure. But awkward...never. No, with Luna he was something else entirely. He was...

Comfortable, Harry finally realized. But then, convention being entirely inconsequential where Luna was concerned, Harry knew he needn't pretend to be anything other than himself.

And besides, Luna was in full wanderlust mode, even though it occurred to Harry that she'd must have come through this way countless times. But leave it to Luna to see something new on every occasion.

He gazed about the snow-blanketed trail. Lined on both sides by tall banks of gnarled hedgerows it formed a shallow, sheltered valley, shielding them from the prevailing winds.

"Nice place for a walk, this," he commented as he fell in beside Luna. "It's so quiet...how far does it go?"

"To our house, about a mile or so," chimed Luna happily as she strolled alongside. "Though it goes on for a ways after that. It's more of a boundary trail than a proper lane, really. The land on that side -- " she pointed to the left, " -- belongs to Orville MacLachlan; his family's been farming here for ages. That side -- " she pointed to her right, " -- used to be Crown land, until a local offended the fey folk and they determined never let Muggles settle there again."

She came to a stop and turned to Harry, a curious glean in her eye.

"Speaking of which, are you partial to gorillas?"

Harry raised his eyebrows, taken aback by the question. "Gorillas?" he asked. "Well, no -- I mean yes -- I mean..." He frowned slightly and thought the question over. "To tell you the truth, I've never really thought about them all that much," he finally concluded. "I've never seen one in person. Why, do you have one at home?"

Luna's eyes widened in surprise. "At home?" she repeated. "No, that wouldn't be right." She tilted her head slightly. "You do come up with the oddest questions, Harry!"

"Me?" countered Harry in disbelief as they started down the snow-blanketed road once more. "But you're the one who -- why did you ask me what I thought about gorillas, then?"

Luna strolled on, her arms swinging languidly. "It's always good to know that about someone," she said, her airy voice resolute. "They are our fellow primates, after all. And besides, we all know how _they_ feel about the Ministry, especially since the Sasquatch scandal."

"Um..."

Luna readjusted her scarf. "But then, I suppose you can't be expected to form an opinion if you've never met one..."

"You'll have to put me down as an 'undecided'," suggested Harry.

"Done," said Luna musically.

Harry shuffled through the snow, nonplussed. Luna's explanation had made not the slightest sense to him; if there was some obscure logic behind it, he wasn't seeing it. Still, he was happy enough just to be spending the day with his unconventional friend, quirks and all; it had slowly dawned on him over the previous dark months just how much he truly valued his relationship with this girl, unusual though she was.

"How come the bus doesn't drop you off at the door?" he asked a little later as he wiggled his frigid toes. "It could squeeze through here, couldn't it?"

"It can't come this way," explained Luna, her long mane of hair slowly turning white with snow. "The lane is warded against any and all vehicles. It was Mum's idea -- she wasn't very fond of noisy Muggle technology, you see. And it does make for nice walks."

Harry nodded, stuffing his chilly hands in his pockets. He'd previously noticed there were no vehicle tracks in the snow; other than a single, fading line of footprints heading the opposite way (undoubtedly Luna's from earlier that morning), there was no indication of any human activity at all. Several rabbit tracks, a few tiny prints that might've belonged to a squirrel or hedgehog -- they seemed to be the limit of the local inhabitants.

Harry sighed; it was a peaceful place, almost idyllic in its solitude. It was quiet enough that he could hear the crunch of snow underfoot as readily as his own breathing; it wasn't hard to understand why Luna enjoyed her strolls down this way. His fingers, however, were starting to get painfully cold, his coat pockets far from providing ideal insulation. He stuffed his hands under his armpits in an effort to warm them.

"I've noticed you don't carry mittens," said Luna out of the blue as they passed by a small wooded hill overlooking the road. "Are you an oviphobe?"

"No, I just forgot them," answered Harry. He frowned at the unfamiliar word. "Oviphobe?"

"Fear of sheep," said Luna, treading briefly into her old tracks before sidestepping.

"What, there's such a thing?" asked Harry.

"Oh yes," explained Luna, her silver eyes widening as they did whenever she was discussing matters of interest. "In some instances an afflicted person can't abide anything made from wool. Colin Creevey's a particularly acute case."

Harry did a double take. "Colin's afraid of...wool?"

Luna nodded. "His scarf had to be fashioned from polyester," she recounted. "In our Defence Against the Dart Arts classes a few years ago his Boggart was an ewe."

A thought occurred to Harry; if anything, he needn't worry about getting lectured from Luna. "Say, can I ask you something?" he said, coming to a stop.

Luna did likewise, a curious expression drawing upon her pale features.

"I've been having a bit of a problem..."

"Yes," said Luna knowingly. Harry blinked.

"It's just...has she said anything to you?"

"Has who said anything to me?"

Harry bit his lip. The last thing he wanted was to drag Luna into a situation that was not of her doing; it was quite enough that she was helping Hermione with the Horcrux research --

"I..."

But Luna had seemed to sense his predicament. "If you mean Ginny, no, she hasn't," she said serenely. "But she's been in a bit of a funk lately, so I rather gathered."

Harry nodded, deciding it would be best to keep the conversation away from specifics, lest Luna become inadvertently imbroiled.

"Why do girls...I mean, can you tell me why is it..."

Harry took a deep breath and rubbed his throbbing temple.

"What I mean is, how come what they say and what they mean...arrghh..."

"Aren't always the same thing?" finished Luna helpfully.

"Exactly!" exclaimed Harry. "I mean -- no offence," he hastened to add.

"None taken," breezed Luna, instantly resuming her airy demeanour. "I've noticed that myself, actually. But as to why, well...I suppose it's one of those great mysteries, isn't it?"

It suddenly struck Harry; if there was one girl in the universe who invariably spoke the plain and simple truth, without ambiguity or hidden meanings, he was looking at her. He was hardly surprised, therefore, that she was just as mystified by the concept as he was.

Difference was, she didn't dwell on it.

He decided not to press the matter. "Thanks," he said, smiling. "I guess it's the kind of question no one can answer, isn't it?"

Luna leaned close. "There's a lot of those," she said seriously, nodding.

They resumed their walk through the snow, Luna moving erratically about as she tried to catch the slowly falling flakes on her tongue, with mixed success.

Harry smiled inwardly; there was such an appealingly simple innocence to Luna, one that contrasted starkly with the convoluted world around her. Harry found himself wishing he could withdraw into Luna's world, even if just for a day or two.

"Here we are," she announced a while later; the path continued on as far as Harry could see through the thickly falling snow, but there were no houses to be seen.

"Where're we -- "

But Luna was indicating for him to follow her straight into the towering hedgerows, which to Harry now loomed especially prickly with their myriad branches and thorn bushes, just waiting to snag any would-be interlopers.

But Harry needn't have worried. Luna plunged resolutely on, leading the way down a well-concealed tunnel through the earthen bank. He smiled ruefully; It reminded him very much of the short passageway to the Gryffindor Common Room back at Hogwarts, though here the walls were formed by massive stone lintels, not bricks and mortar. He ran his hand along the smooth bluestones; whoever had erected them had done so ages ago, their surface obviously weathered by the passing of centuries.

"Hey, this is different," he said appreciatively as he ran his hand along the worn stone, wondering as to the identity of those who had once hewn it from solid rock. "Bronze age, isn't it? Is it original, or -- ?"

"Yes to both," affirmed Luna as she emerged into the comparative brightness of the far side. Harry noted how the light and accumulated snow had conspired to give her a decidedly ethereal appearance; it was, he thought as he rubbed his nose, not at all disaggreable.

He took in his new surroundings. They were in the midst of a winter-worn meadow accentuated by shrivelled wildflowers and wild shrubberies. A soft trickling gave away an unseen nearby stream. To Harry's left an old log fence drew off alongside a slight depression in the snow that led towards what he presumed to be Luna's home.

Harry estimated the windmill to be a good sixty feet in height, not counting the slightly tattered blades. How it had managed to escape his detection from just beyond the hedgerow he couldn't imagine. The base was made of heavily weathered, though clearly stout, stonework; there were elements in its architecture that suggested to Harry a different origin than that of a windmill.

"Wow," he said as they approached, observing the slowly turning iron whirligig atop the pinnacle. "This place looks like it's had quite a history."

"It was built as a hermitage originally," said Luna, shaking the worst of the snow from her hair. "The mill came later, during the Tudors if I'm not mistaken. I didn't suppose you'd recognize it after all this time."

That last statement stunned Harry. He turned to face her, confused. "What do you mean?" he asked. "I've never been here before."

"Sure you have," replied Luna assuredly. "The night after your parents were killed. Professor Dumbledore brought you here for safekeeping for a few hours, until he could make arrangements with your relatives. Daddy told me so."

Harry was dumbstruck He'd spent a night at the Lovegood's and he was only finding out now?

"Seriously?" he queried, knowing full well Luna wouldn't lie to him. "I...I don't remember..."

"Well, that's to be expected," said Luna. "Memories at that age are such flighty things, aren't they? Or maybe a Wrackspurt -- "

"Do _you_ remember any of it?"

Luna slowly shook her head. "No, I was at St. Mungo's at the time," she said. "So we never properly met. At least, not until that day on the train."

"St. Mungo's?" repeated Harry, recalling the old wizarding hospital back in London. "What were you doing there? Were you sick?"

"No," said Luna, smiling slightly. "I was getting born."

"Getting -- "

The sheer irony struck Harry like a mallet. For as long as he could remember Hallowe'en had symbolized a tragic ending in his life -- he'd never imagined that it could one day be a harebringer for something altogether more pleasant.

"Well, shall we go...in, then?" suggested Luna, pausing slightly as the sight of Harry's blatant stare. "I'd like to check if Daddy's sent any owls..."

It took Harry a moment to register the question.

"Oh...sure, by all means..."

Luna held the door open for Harry (which, he noted, hadn't seemed locked), and he eagerly strode into the relative warmth of the entryway. taking his hands out from under his armpits. He'd just taken his hands out from under his armpits and turned to Luna when he noticed her eyes widen precipitously.

"What's -- "

He felt more than saw the spell strike him. The intense flash disoriented him before he experienced a strange, momentary sensation of floating about in mid-air, quickly followed by a searing, head-splitting pain the likes of which he'd never fathomed possible. And then, finally, darkness.


	3. Chapter 3

Happy Christmas, Harry Potter

Part 3

_Harry...Harry..._

The words were bare whispers in his mind. A dream, yes, but devoid of visual representation. _Strange dream, this..._

It was then he felt something tickling his nose. Something altogether more tactile and substantial.

He slowly opened his eyes, finding himself staring into Luna's silvery ones. The tickling of his nose had been caused by a few long strands of Luna's damp blonde hair.

"Oh, good," she breathed in relief, pulling back slightly; her concerned expression quickly brought Harry back to reality – he'd been attacked!

He pushed himself up on his elbows and immediately wished he hadn't. His head felt as if it had been filled with rusty nails. He fell back heavily to the floor, groaning and rubbing his forehead.

"I'm so sorry," said Luna, looking strangely pale. "It shouldn't have done that...Daddy charmed it only to attack Dark wizards, you see..."

"Voldemort..." croaked Harry.

"Well...yes, him especially, I suppose," said Luna, uncharacteristically serious. "But I don't understand why it attacked – "

"Voldemort," said Harry a bit more forcefully. "It sensed him through me. I have...some of his...'essence'...if you want to call it that."

"Oh..."

Harry felt the back of his head. He noticed a cushion had been placed there, which was fortunate, for the slight bump he detected stung with a particular vigour.

"Oh, my aching head," he lamented painfully, relieved, at least, that the Death Eaters had not infiltrated the Lovegoods' home after all. He slowly rubbed the back of his head as he gazed up at Luna. "That's the second time I've been dinged on the noggin today."

Luna bit her lip. "Yes, I've noticed," she agreed solemnly. She then tilted her head. "Have you always been this accident prone, Harry?"

Harry stopped rubbing the back of his head. "You're joking, right?"

Luna gazed at him blankly for a moment before picking up a small bottle and twisting the top open. "Here," she said, pouring out a spoonful and proffering it to Harry. "This will make you feel better. And it's cherry flavoured, which is always a plus."

Harry pushed himself up and carefully swallowed the concoction, which, sure enough, had a distinct cherry flavouring. The throbbing pain in his head gradually began to subside. He slowly and gingerly drew up into a sitting position.

"Thanks Luna, it's starting to do the trick already," he said appreciatively. "What'd I get hit by, anyway? It was a strong bugger, I'll give it that – "

"It was a stunning ward," explained Luna, some of the colour starting to return to her cheeks as Harry slowly recovered. "I tried to catch you, but you were falling in the opposite direction, so..."

"It's all right," said Harry reassuredly, his eyes falling on an umbrella holder next to the door, bristling with cattails. "It was an accident. Like you said, they tend to follow me around."

"They do, don't they?" agreed Luna. "Still though, a good host should never allow a guest to come to harm. I am sorry, Harry."

"Don't worry about it," repeated Harry, getting to his feet in an attempt to reassure Luna he wasn't seriously injured. A wave of dizziness swept over him; he slapped one hand against the wall to keep from losing his balance.

"Whoa..."

"It does takes a while for the Stun-B-Gone to take full effect," said Luna, coming to stand before him after picking the pillow up from the floor. "Maybe you should rest for a bit...you wouldn't want to hit your head a third time today, would you? Concussions are no friends of the cerebrum."

"That...wouldn't be my first choice, no," said Harry, his head swimming. It was then he glimpsed a severely scorched area of the wall facing the door, beneath which shredded bits of clothing and straw lay strewn about. The shattered remains of a pumpkin lay in the near corner, it's pulp splattered along the floor.

"What happened here?" he asked, frowning.

"Hmm?"

"All this debris," said Harry. "Where'd it come from?"

"Oh, it was our scarecrow," explained Luna, shrugging. "Daddy had enchanted it to act as the receptacle for the ward, you see."

Harry looked repeatedly between Luna and the debris. "But...what happened to it?" A feeling of apprehension grew within him. "Luna...you didn't use a _Reductor_ spell, did you?"

"Well, yes," said Luna simply. At Harry's expression she proceeded to explain: "It just wouldn't do to have it flinging spells during your stay, it wouldn't be welcoming."

"Luna," said Harry slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose, "You're going to get in trouble..."

"Oh, I'll clean it up later. Daddy wouldn't mind."

"I mean with the Ministry...that's underage magic...there's going to be a hearing...and...and..."

Luna was smiling dreamily; Harry couldn't believe she didn't realize the seriousness of her predicament.

"I'm not kidding, Luna. I'm surprised the owls haven't started flying in already. When it happened to me Dumbledore was there, but now I don't know...what?"

Luna seemed utterly nonplussed at his concern. "The Ministry has neither eyes nor ears here, Harry," she voiced assuredly.

"They have ways of knowing, believe me – "

"Well, maybe elsewhere," said Luna, smiling dreamily. "But this area is 'off the Ministry's radar,' as Daddy likes to put it. Plus we're Unplottable."

"I – we are? I mean you are?" said Harry, surprised.

"Oh yes," replied Luna, taking hold of Harry's hand and leading him slowly into the next room. "Mummy made quite sure of that – she didn't trust the Ministry very much, especially after they gave her a rough go of it. Only the Weasleys know we live here...and Mr. Diggory...oh, and Professor Dumbledore did also...oh, and Hermione..."

"And now me," added Harry as Luna helped him to an old, patched chesterfield in the middle of a large, half-moon-shaped room.

"Yes," agreed Luna. "Actually I suppose a few people do know nowadays, but they're quite good folk, I think. Anyway," she said as she took Harry's coat, "you can rest here as long as you like. In the meantime I'll check the mail...oh and I really should get started on dinner."

She regarded him thoughtfully. "Do you mind terribly if I don't make octopus?"

Harry looked at her, aghast. "What...octopus at Christmas? No, I don't mind at all! In fact I'd appreciate it if you didn't."

"Oh good," said Luna, carefully unravelling her overlong scarf. "I know it's an old Christmas tradition with the Muggles, but Daddy and I aren't very partial to tentacles, so..."

"Eh? Where'd you hear that? This business about octopus being a Christmas tradition?"

Luna gazed at him unblinkingly for a moment. "Frederick told me."

"He told you that, did he?" asked Harry, trying to keep his face devoid of expression.

Luna nodded and turned to go. "I'll be in the kitchen just over here if you need anything...and do feel free to explore, if you feel up to it." She drifted off to an open doorway framed by a what appeared to be a collection of pineapple and coconut husks. There she hesitated for a moment before turning back to Harry.

"If you should go upstairs, Nevermore's in a bit of a nasty mood today, so you might want to keep an eye out."

"Otherwise I'll _get_ an eye out, right?" joked Harry, vividly recalling Luna's loquacious but temperamental mail raven.

Luna blinked. "I hope not," she said earnestly. "It really wouldn't do for you to be known as 'One-Eyed Potter'."

Harry suppressed a grin only with difficulty. "Well, I dunno," he said, stroking his chin in mock contemplation. "I could get one of those magic eyes like Moody has...never know, could come in handy, actually..."

His Ravenclaw friend seemed to consider the possibility. " 'Mad-Eye Potter'," she mused thoughtfully. Then she shook her head. "No, I prefer just 'Harry Potter', I think. I can't really picture you as a pirate...you're entirely too law-abiding for that. Nor a Cyclops – they're rather large, aren't they?"

With that, she disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Harry standing there, perplexed. He wondered if Luna had been bantering with him or engaging in serious conversation. Given that she'd appeared to have taken Fred's word at face value (always a risky proposition), he thought the latter more likely. But then, it was part of the living paradox that was Luna: invariably honest and plain-spoken, hers was a wit nonetheless singularly difficult to pin down.

Harry took off his boots and gazed about the room. Its walls were lined with bookcases, trinket-laden shelves and a few old patchwork quilts; stacked behind the tattered chesterfield were several columns of _Quibbler_ back issues. Two small windows to either side let in enough light to see by, though an old lamp stood next to a large armchair for night time use. The entire room, which he could now see formed exactly half of the perfectly circular first floor, had a well lived-in look, cluttered though not quite to the point of messiness. Several baskets sat near the entrance to the kitchen, containing a mix of pine cones, acorns, hickory nuts, cattails, and a myriad other products of nature that one could readily find in the forest. To his left, a curved stone staircase longed the wall, alongside which sat a small open crate filled with broken stone slabs, many of them brandishing chiselled symbols Harry couldn't recognize.

Harry sighed. It was a comfortable place, modestly decorated for the holidays in a rustic style that evoked old country homes from simpler times. Though unconventional, Harry was in a way surprised; he'd half expected the Lovegoods' residence to contain life-sized carousels of spouting elephant seals and other such follies, but as it was, he could readily tell the floors from the ceiling.

He looked to the large stone fireplace before him. The flames were crackling away vigorously, which caught his attention. Had Luna thrown some wood on the embers when he wasn't looking?

On the mantelpiece stood a few ornamental garlands and some Christmas cards. He drew closer – Neville had sent one, as had the Diggorys...so had Hermione, whose card she'd apparently crafted herself and written in what Harry surmised was some form of Old Celtic. At the sight of Ginny's card he felt an uncomfortable surge of guilt; it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep Ginny isolated from his activities surrounding the search for the Horcruxes, especially considering Hermione was so heavily involved. Even Harry had to admit it was a painful double standard for Ginny to swallow. Indeed, it was for that very reason he'd asked Hermione not to mention Luna's involvement, lest it make the situation even worse.

Still, just the fact he was here...how could he explain it to her? Though he'd never committed to spending the holidays at the Burrow, deep down he knew the reactions his decision would elicit.

_I'm not doing anything wrong_, he told himself with conviction, setting the card back on the mantle. _It's not like I'm seeing someone behind her back or anything..._

He became light-headed. He stumbled slightly and grasped the mantle for support, steadying himself for several moments until his head cleared enough for him to stand unaided. He stepped back to the Chesterfield and sat down heavily; the exhaustion of the past several months combined with the lingering effects of the Stunning spell were enough sap him of what little energy he had left.

He slouched back until his read rested against the sofa's worn quilting. He closed his eyes, becoming aware of the sound of running water emanating from the kitchen. He smiled vaguely as Luna's soft humming drifted to his ears. He felt strangely comfortable in this house, overzealous guardian scarecrows notwithstanding. Here, at least, he could afford to let his guard down, if just for a little while.

Harry awoke to a shrill scream. He nearly fell off the Chesterfield in his groggy haste, scrambling to his feet and drawing his wand. It took him a second or two to orient himself and realize just where he was.

The incessant, high-pitched screaming was coming from somewhere upstairs. It could only be Luna –

_Death Eaters!_

He bolted up the stairs two at a time, adrenaline energizing his every step. He scrambled out into a short corridor on the second floor, flanked on either side by closed doors – the screaming was clearly coming from his right. He grasped the door handle just as the screaming suddenly died off.

He burst into the room, wand drawn and heart racing.

_"LUNA!"_

Before him loomed a large wooden bathtub surrounded by a floral leaf patterned shower curtain. A pale hand quickly reached out and pulled the curtain back just enough to allow the head of a very wet-looking Luna peering out at him, for once her typically surprised appearance entirely appropriate.

"Are you all right? You look a bit out of sorts..."

Harry was dumbstruck. He'd half expected to burst in to find Luna surrounded by Death Eaters, but with nothing more threatening than an overhanging shower head to be seen, he became hopelessly flustered.

"I...I heard...I thought I h-heard someone screaming," he finally managed to stammer. "I thought you were...you know, Death Eaters..."

"Screaming? Oh...yes, the pipes," said Luna as though it explained everything.

"Excuse me?"

"The pipes," she repeated. "They make a rather terrible whistling sound for a few seconds until the water clears the air out of them. But then it does keep the Gobblygooks away, so we've never chanced to fix them."

"The...pipes?"

"That's right," said Luna, long locks of wet, dirty blonde hair plastered to her face. "It's not polite to point, you know."

"Eh?" blurted Harry, before realizing he had his wand levelled directly at her. He hurriedly lowered it. "Oh! S-sorry!"

Luna drew back behind the curtain. "I hope you don't mind," she said as faint wisps of steam rose lazily up to the ceiling. "But you were asleep, so I thought I had time..."

"No, that's, er, that's fine," said Harry, feeling as though he really shouldn't be standing there, what with Luna being stark naked just a few feet from him. "Don't rush on my account. I'll just go...um, wait downstairs..."

"All right," said Luna. "I won't be long. Feel free to try Daddy's pickles, they're really quite good. And they help ward off scurvy!"

Harry's nerves were still a bit frayed as he made his way back down the stairs. _Can't let scurvy get me...I've come this far..._

The Lovegood's kitchen was identical in shape to the living room, though considerably more cluttered, with myriad well-used pots and pans hanging from the ceiling and a scrubbed wooden countertop strewn with the debris of a large meal's preparation. A half-decorated Christmas tree inexplicably stood right in the middle of the place, a single, lonely present in the shadows of its branches. His stomach tightened at the sight; though he hadn't been able to shop for Christmas presents at all this year, Harry found himself wishing he'd could have somehow made the time, for Luna at the very least.

A glance at the window informed Harry some time had passed since he'd fallen asleep -- it was now quite dark. The smell of freshly prepared food drifting over from the large iron oven piqued Harry's curiosity (and appetite), though he refrained from sampling the fare. Over the doorway leading into the living area was a battered old shield bearing the Tudor coat-of-arms; even given Luna's penchant for the unusual, this particular artefact surprised him. If it was genuine, it could be worth a small fortune – enough to fund a new Snorkack-finding expedition, to be sure.

Luna had set up the small dinner table with a festive tablecloth and mismatched Halloween napkins. The plates and cutlery were of a simple and well-used vintage, from which Harry took a measure of satisfaction; Luna clearly held no interest in trying to impress visitors by pulling out their best flatware, assuming, that is, the Lovegoods even had anything better. If Molly was to be believed, Luna's father could only just make ends meet from the _Quibbler_'s meagre revenues.

The table's centrepiece was a small ivy wreath, atop of which sat a figurine made up of tiny pinecones that Harry found strangely familiar, at least from descriptions.

_A Snorkack, it's got to be...too bad Hermione isn't here..._

He hadn't waited long before Luna drifted into the kitchen, clad in a floral kimono of all things, and though her long hair was damp and dishevelled, Harry thought she looked quite endearing.

"Hello, Mr. Sleepyhead," intoned Luna dreamily as she peeled a plastic wrapping off her wrist cast. Harry did a double-take; it had been the first time Luna had ever teased him – teased _anyone_, for that matter, so far as he could remember.

"I s'pose I did drift off a little," he admitted sheepishly, just as he caught sight of an unfurled letter on the counter. "Hey, any news from your Dad?"

Luna's shoulders sagged ever so slightly. "Yes, he's still in Copenhagen," she said sadly. "He said the local Floo Network's working fine, but the international service is still patchy – a Ukrainian witch tried to get back home despite the warnings, but she ended up in Paraguay."

"Ouch," said Harry.

"Anyway, he does send his love," said Luna a little more happily, opening the heavy oven door and peering inside. "Oops...it's a little overdone..."

"I'm sure it'll be great," consoled Harry, his heart going out to his friend. Clearly her father's absence was weighing on her, though this was one instance where he was powerless to help.

It was a nice Christmas dinner, even despite Luna's culinary skills being a decidedly hit-or-miss affair; the roast goose and Christmas pudding were quite good, as was a delightful brioche-like dish Luna called a Dragon Tail. As he'd expected the pickles were scrumptious, though the marzipan-frosted fruit cake had a garish cherry flavour that drowned out all of the other flavourings. The Gooseberry Fool, on the other hand, was borderline inedible, and even Luna hadn't even finished her own helping of mince pie, nor had she touched the dandelion wine, though Harry had found it to be quite good.

"It's one of Mum's recipes," she'd said at Harry's questioning look. "But I don't react very well to spirits, so..."

They spent the rest of the evening decorating the tree and setting out tiny mince pies and carrots for Santa and his reindeer (Harry hadn't the heart to inform Luna they were mythical), after which they sat before the fireplace and regaled each other with stories from their childhood – the contrast in their early lives being not lost on Harry. Where he'd suffered confinement and shunning, Luna had led an apparently happy childhood prior to Hogwarts, her early years interspersed with several accidents resulting from her insatiable curiosity. None of which, thankfully, had been as tragic as her mother's.

Nevertheless, there was a hint of loneliness in Luna's past. Harry was painfully aware that real friendship was something she'd only begun to experience in the last couple of years.

"I wish Dumbledore would've left me here, instead," intoned Harry after they'd been gazing into the fire for a good while. "I wonder how differently things would have turned...Luna?"

She gave no reaction, her gaze fixed upon the flames, a faraway look in her large, misty eyes. Harry's stomach knotted slightly as he realized she must be thinking of her absent father.

He leaned forward. "Luna, you okay?"

Harry's concerned increased markedly at her apparent obliviousness to his words. He went to tug on her sleeve –

"She does not heare you."

Harry sprang to his feet, wand in hand. It hadn't been his imagination – a young woman's voice, ethereal and strangely antiquated in its inflection, had called to him. Yet he and Luna were alone in the house.

"Who's there?" he called out uneasily. His hand tightened around his wand's wooden hilt. "Show yourself!"

Just then, he felt it – an unnatural chill running down his spine.

He spun around. He gaped at the sight before him.

"Greetinges, Harry James Potter..."

His wand clattered to the floor.


	4. Who Needs Jacob Marley?

1 Happy Christmas, Harry Potter

Part 4

Harry stood transfixed, hardly daring to believe what his eyes were trying to tell his brain.

Before him stood an attractive young woman clad in what looked to be stately servant's robes more befitting a Tudor court than the twentieth century. Her movements slow and elegant, she instantly drew Harry's attention for an altogether different reason.

He could see right through her.

Her shimmering robes reminded Harry vaguely of the Grey Lady at Hogwarts, though in this case her garb was less that of a noblewoman's than a lady-in-waiting's.

"You...you're not...are you? _Mrs. Lovegood?_" stammered Harry nervously. Though he'd always thought of Luna's mother in a very positive light, the possibility that he might be addressing her ghost unnerved him.

The young woman smiled -- almost sadly, it seemed to Harry.

"Truelie not," she said in a strangely archaic voice that seemed to come from within his own mind rather than from across the room. "For unlike myselfe, she beheld not fear for what lies beyonde the mortal realme..."

Harry was dumfounded. He'd never heard Luna make mention of a ghost at home. But if it wasn't her mother...

"But...then who are you?" he queried, his curiosity overriding his natural wariness. She was a ghost, after all -- she couldn't harm anyone.

The woman's gaze drifted over to the flickering flames in the old fireplace. For several moments she was silent, and when she did finally speak Harry noted her ghostly voice was tinged with melancholy.

"My name," she whispered softly, her eyes fixed on the glowing embers, "is no longer of consequence in your worlde..."

Harry stood transfixed as the apparition slowly drifted over to the fireplace, whereupon her expression livened up slightly as her eyes fell on Luna. "However, you may call me Sarah, if you wish...such was my nayme when I attended my Ladie Catherine's courte..."

Harry retrieved his wand from the floor.

"Do you, um, live here?"

The young woman smiled ruefully to herself as she slid a ghostly hand along the mantle. "Live...such as it is..."

Harry bit his lip. How could he have been so stupid?

"I'm sorry," he said earnestly. "I didn't mean -- "

"Nay," interrupted the apparition, still gazing into the fire even as she addressed him. "T'was not taken in offense, Harry James Potter. Indeed, it is most gratifying to be referred as one of the livinge after so longe a time, even if it be in error..."

The fire crackled. Luna stretched lazily, but gave no sign of being aware of the presence of the mysterious ghost. At that moment Harry's eyes fell upon a dark figure, sprawled languidly across the sofa behind Luna with one leg dangling over the side -- it was himself!

He did a double take. "Wha -- what's going on? Is this a dream?"

The ghostly figure slowly turned towards him, a curious glean in her translucent eyes. "A dream, sire? Not trulie, though you be in a dreaming state of minde..."

Harry crouched down next to Luna.

"Luna? Can you hear me?"

"Have ye not listened?" voiced the apparition, shaking her ethereal head. "In this state you may no more speake with the waking than I may become Queene of the realme."

Indeed, Luna continued to gaze dreamily into the fireplace, an expression of sleepy contentment on her face. "What's going on?" asked Harry, his hand drifting through Luna's shoulder as though he were incorporeal. "If this isn't a dream..."

He stood up and turned to the apparition. "Why are you here? Luna never mentioned you before..."

The ghost smiled. "Aye, there be likelie manie thinges of which you be unknowing," she said cryptically. "For within these walls skulk manie spirits...'tis a place of refuge for my kinde, of sorts..."

Moving slowly from the fireplace, the ethereal young woman knelt down before the sofa, just next to Luna. Harry fingered his wand nervously.

"You coulde do worse than this one," said the phantom cryptically, lightly running her ghostly hand through Luna's pale forelocks (which never moved). "She is possessing of a wisdom beyond her yeares, as was her mother...a trait of their kinde, it is..."

"I...I know," said Harry uncertainly as Luna yawned. "A lot of people think she's a kook, but I know that's not...er...pardon my asking, but why are you here, exactly?"

The ghost, "Sarah", looked up at him.

"In my dream, I mean," he added. "If I _am_ sleeping...I've spoken with ghosts before, at school, but...not like this."

The young woman rose gracefully to her feet in the manner of one well-practiced in such a movement.

"Because ye've lost yourselfe, Harry Potter," she replied. "Thou hast resigned yourselfe to your fate...a fate of youre own choosing."

"Wha -- what do you mean?" blurted Harry, shocked at the ghost's declaration. "_My_ choosing -- I didn't ask for any of this!"

"Aye, mayhap not," said the apparition, her ghostly form shimmering in the fireplace's dim glow. "Though the path ye've taken is no less a choice -- "

"Now don't _you_ start!" interrupted Harry, his arms flailing angrily. "If I'd wanted to be lectured I could've gone to the Burrow!"

"Aye, 'tis true," admitted the mysterious young woman, inclining her head apologetically. "T'was not to preach I came upon ye this night..."

Harry was equal parts irritated and perplexed. Just who was this ghost?

She looked at him. "But ye have put youre friendes at a distance, of that you cannot denie...a moste misguided course -- "

Harry had heard enough. He made for the stairs, becoming suddenly aware he had no idea where he was going. But he did know he wasn't keen about getting a Hermione-like sermon, let alone from a ghost!

He'd barely laid foot upon the first step when the apparition silently appeared, hovering in the middle of the staircase above him. "But you forget yourselfe," she reminded him. "We are in your imaginings, you cannot simplie walk away."

Harry sighed. She was right -- if this _was_ a dream --

And yet, it didn't feel like one. He seemed too aware, too lucid...

"Okay, look," he said at last, "What are you supposed to be, the Ghost of Christmas Past or something?"

"Nay," replied the young woman, seemingly lost in thought. "Though I be familiar with the tale...ye hath giveth me an idea..."

She glided smoothly down the staircase and took hold of his hand. Harry gasped -- her ghostly fingers were icy to the touch, though he was more surprised at the fact that she seemed corporeal, at least to him.

"Hey, what're you -- "

"Do not feare," she assured as a wave of dizzyness swept through him. "Harme shall not befall ye, Harry Potter..."

"I'm...not..."

Harry's words faltered as he felt the world spinning by at dizzying speed. Vague, hazy images danced through his mind as he lurched forward, floating through space for the briefest of moments. Then, as suddenly as it began, the dizzyness left him. He blinked -- and found himself again in Luna's living room, his mysterious guide standing quietly next to him as though nothing had happened.

"What's going on?"

"Ye neede only waite..."

Harry looked about. The room had changed slightly. For one, it was daytime, the light streaming in through the windows revealing a bright morning beyond. The mantle no longer displayed any Christmas cards, though there were still holiday decorations to be seen. The box overflowing with thin stone tablets that Harry had seen at the base of the staircase was missing, in its place stood a large papier-maché figure of a waxwing.

"What is this?" asked Harry as the phantom lady released her icy grip. "Where are -- I mean, when are we?"

" 'Tis not so very longe ago," answered his ghostly companion. "Tho' I imagine that might depend upone youre point of view..."

Harry went over to the window and peered outside. There was snow -- a goodly amount of it, in fact. In his estimation it was midwinter. But the mystery remained: why was he here?

He turned to the apparition. She seemed to sense his burdgeoning questions, but instead of providing answers she simply indicated with a wave of her hand that he should simply content himself to wait. That suited Harry not at all well, but in point of fact he could see little alternative.

It wasn't long before the sound of running upstairs drifted down to his ears. His back stiffened slightly as rapid footfalls emanated from the staircase -- whoever the source was light of foot. He took a step forward, and a moment later Luna emerged from the stairs. Her appearance shocked Harry -- not because she was so much younger than he knew her, but because of the expression of sheer, unadulterated panic on her face. Harry reacted instinctively.

"Luna! What's -- "

She spun around and looked right at him. Harry could see she was almost hyperventilating. His stomach knotted painfully.

"What's wrong?" he asked, more to himself than to anyone in particular.

Luna's eyes widened --

Harry was momentarily confused. Could she actually see him?

She bolted right at him, so quickly that Harry had no time to get out of the way. But rather than a precipitating a collision, she passed right _through_ him.

"Gah!" blurted Harry in surprise -- being incorporeal took some getting used to.

Luna grasped an old, battered tin box on the mantlepiece and fumbled desperately with the latch.

Harry moved closer, his ghostly companion maintaining a discreet distance. Something had to be terribly wrong to drive Luna into such a state. A sense of dread overtook him as he recalled a peculiar conversation they'd shared a couple of years before; she was just about the right age, too...

The box fell from Luna's trembling hands and clattered open onto the floor. A tiny dusting of greenish powder flew out -- Floo powder, Harry realized.

"No...oh, no..."

The box was empty. Luna looked to be on the verse of hysteria; a pale, trembling hand twisted through her long blonde hair as tears trailed from reddened eyes.

Harry was mortified. To see Luna in such a state was as shocking as anything he'd ever experienced.

She shuffled back, nearly stumbling against the couch in the process, her normally fluid and graceful movements now halting and clumsy. Harry was desperate to reach out to her but realized he was powerless to intervene -- what he was witnessing had already passed into history. He could no more affect it than he could control the movements of the stars, and, it left a terribly bitter taste in his mouth.

Luna looked about helplessly. "Daddy," she squeaked in a tiny voice, "please come home...Mummy's in a bad way..."

A light tapping sound drifted in from the kitchen window.

"Nevermore!"

Luna ran into the kitchen, her gait energized by newfound hope. Harry followed close behind. He glanced at the ghostly lady as he ran past -- her gaze was fixed solemnly on the floor, her hands clasped together before her.

Luna ran to the window and struggled desperately against the counter to pull it open. She knocked a plate over the edge, sending it crashing into pieces to the floor. Finally, on tiptoes and with her fingers outstretched to the utmost, she just managed to unhook the latch and push the window open.

But rather than Luna's familiar raven, it was a decidedly haggard-looking brown owl that stumbled through the small window, dropping down unceremoniously into the sink. Harry recognized the old bird instantly.

"W-who are -- E-Erroll!" exclaimed Luna, quickly picking him out of the sink and setting him upright on the counter -- rather firmly, Harry noted, from the bird's fussing and squawking at being so vigorously handled.

Luna worked frantically to undo the tiny message wrapped around Erroll's leg, though her hands were shaking to such an extent that it took several tries. Tears were streaming freely down her cheeks as the note finally came free. She threw it down to the counter, unread.

She grasped a pencil and parchment from a drawer and began scribbling furiously, her breathing becoming increasingly wracked with sobs. She'd barely gotten a few words to parchment when a scuttling sound drew her attention to a most distressing sight -- Erroll had jumped up to the window sill and was extending his wings in preparation for flight.

A look of sheer horror crossed Luna's face. "NO!" she shrieked, lunging up from the table in a desperate, do-or-die dive for the window.

She hit the edge of the counter, hard, just as the owl took flight. She bounced off, collapsing in a heap on the floor with a cry of pain as her head struck a chair leg. Harry winced -- he felt his own tears welling up at what might have been Luna's one chance to save her mother...

"ERROLL!"

Luna scrambled to her feet, her hair strewn messily about her tear-stained face, blood trickling down from a gash on her temple. She dragged a chair to the counter and quickly clambered up to the open window. But it was too late -- Harry watched with heartbreaking distress as the Weasleys' owl rose slowly over the wintery countryside.

"ERROLL! _ERROLL! ERRROLLLLL!_"

Luna called after the slowly shrinking owl in desperation, her delicate voice finally breaking from the effort. But it was to no avail. Harry knew the old bird to be halfway (if not entirely) deaf, but this did nothing to temper his anguish.

Luna collapsed onto the counter, her silver eyes wide with disbelief as she stared after the departing owl.

"Please come back...oh please come back, mister owl," she wept pleadingly as she clasped her pale hands together in supplication, her pale cheeks glistening with rivulets of tears. "Please don't go..."

Harry couldn't bear to watch any longer. He turned and shambled out of the kitchen, shoulders slumped and heart in his mouth. His ghostly escort stood by the staircase, observing him silently.

He whirled on her. "Why'd you bring me here?" he chocked angrily, his emotions threatening to overwhelm him. "You thought this would make me feel better? Seeing...seing _this_?"

"Nay...t'was thinking just the opposite, in fact..."

The ethereal young woman glided forth and grasped his hand once more.

"No! Let go -- "

But before he could wrest free of her icy grip, his world was spinning once again. He lurched forward --

-- and found himself outside. It was winter still, and the snow was falling lightly. The Lovegood's windmill loomed over a tall hedge behind him, its canvas blades host to a small roost of birds he couldn't identify at this distance. It was overcast, though it appeared to be mid-morning. His ghostly companion was gone.

He looked about anxiously. Where was she? And more disturbingly, how was he supposed to get back? Assuming, of course, this wasn't some sort of elaborate dream. But everything was too real, too vivid...

It was then he glanced upon shallow footprints leading past him, emanating from the direction of the windmill. He instantly recognized their familiar wandering pattern; evidently his ghostly guide had meant for him to follow -- but why had she gone?

He set out after the footprints' maker -- hopefully he would find answers there. As he trudged along, he sincerely hoped he wouldn't come upon a scene like that he'd just witnessed...the pain in his heart was still raw.

The trail led him down to a narrow, winding stream, easily crossed, beyond which he spied a solitary figure at the edge of a small grove of trees.

There Luna stood with her back to him, clutching her well-worn cloak snugly about her narrow shoulders as the wind whipped at her, sending her long locks scattering wildly in ever direction.

He heard wisps of her voice being carried upon the wind -- she was speaking to someone, but he could see no one else. In fact, from Harry's vantage point, she seemed to be addressing a rather old and gnarled oak tree!

Harry hesitated. Though he was present in spirit only, it didn't feel right to be privy to Luna's private moments. It was unnatural -- and the thought of consciously eavesdropping on his friend disturbed him.

But the ghost had clearly brought him here for a reason. What's more, he was curious as to why Luna would be addressing a tree, of all things. He drew closer, his phantasmal feet making no sound upon the snow. When he got to within a few strides of Luna her voice became clearer:

" -- she'd like, I think. But then, she's not convinced that they even exist, much less anything about their nesting habits. I do think she'll come around one day, though. She doesn't diss Daddy's work hardly at all anymore -- I think his exposé of Scrimgeourgate opened her mind on a lot of things. I'm really quite fond of her...oh, which reminds me, I'll be seeing Harry this afternoon, if he's still at the Leaky Cauldron. I've missed him these past months at school, so I'm looking forward to that. It's a shame you've never met him, he really is very nice, though he can obsess a bit sometimes...oh, and Neville sent me a lovely Christmas card: it croaks to the tune of O Tattenbaum! Ginny said that was Trevor's influence. He's such a sweet little fellow, warts and all. Trevor, I mean...so is Neville, minus the warts..."

Harry stared intently into the woods. There definitely was no one present aside from Luna, unless they were under an invisibility cloak or otherwise similarly concealed. It made no sense -- who was she speaking to?

Luna sighed as she pressed her forehead lightly against the large oak tree she'd been facing. When she spoke again her voice was lower than before, so that Harry had to strain to hear.

"You know, It still feels a bit strange, this business of having friends. I haven't nearly as much free time as I used to, but I don't mind, really. Daddy said I'll get used to it...he says I was dreadfully overdue, but I don't think there can be timetables to such things...they happen when they happen, don't they? Even so, I'd never take them for granted...I cherish them entirely too much for that..."

Harry felt his emotions building up within him once more.

_We cherish you too, Luna. Probably even more than you know..._

"Well, I really should be going," said Luna in her more typical dreamy tone. "I still have to find some walnut husks for Harry's present. I suppose I could use bark, but it wouldn't last -- where? Oh, yes, just overlooking the faerie knoll, isn't it? I know where that is...I'll ask if they can spare a few..."

With that, Luna wrapped her arms around the old oak's weathered trunk in an affectionate hug.

"Tá grá agam duit, mo chara," she whispered before scurrying off into the woods.

Harry stood there, bewildered. He wasn't sure what he'd just witnessed -- whatever it was, the strange ghost had evidently deemed it important enough to show him. He was relieved he hadn't witnessed another tragedy, but he was nonetheless a little uncomfortable in being made privy to such private moments of Luna's life.

At the moment, however, he had a more immediate concern -- the apparition was nowhere to be seen, and he had no idea how to get back on his own, assuming he wasn't just dreaming...

"Hello?" he called out to the cold morning air as the wind picked up briefly.

No answer.

"Hello? Miss, um...Sarah? Where'd you go?"

His only response came from the scattered chirping of winter birds and light rustling of branches in the breeze. Had she abandoned him?

"Hellooooooo!"

Still no response.

"Hey!"

"Harry?"

He jerked awake with a start. "Wha -- who...Luna?"

"Hello, I'm right here," she said, gazing at him intently from just inches away. "I think you were having a nightmare, you've been mumbling in your sleep...but rather that than going insane, I think!"

Harry craned his neck and looked about. He was sprawled out on the sofa, one leg dangling loosely over the side. Luna was on her knees on the floor next to him, her hands pressed against the sofa's cushion on which his head had been resting. Had it all been a dream, a nightmare, as Luna had suggested?

It hardly seemed possible; it had been much too vivid, too_ real_. But how could he explain what he'd seen?

Luna tilted her head slightly. "Are you all right? You look like you've seen a two-headed banshee..."

Harry slowly drew himself up into a sitting position. "I...I'm not sure what happened," he said carefully, intensely aware of being in possession of very delicate knowledge he really couldn't explain logically. "It was weird...there was this ghost..."

Luna's eyes lit up excitedly. "Sir Walter?"

Harry looked at her. "Er, no, it was a woman -- "

"Oh, Lady Isabelle?"

Harry rubbed the back of his head. "I'm not sure," he said carefully. "I don't think so, though. She said her name was Sarah."

"Oh, yes, she's nice," affirmed Luna, sitting back down so that her legs folded under her kimono. "She's not usually so forward though, especially with strangers."

Harry blinked. "You know who she is?"

Luna nodded. "She prefers to communicate in dreams, though she can manifest herself openly if she wants to," she explained. "She's not usually very talkative as she's still a bit bitter about how she died...but then, I suppose most ghosts are."

Harry was still reeling inside from the scenes he'd just experienced. Nonetheless, his curiosity was piqued.

"How'd it happen?" he asked, curious to know more about this mysterious ghost, and hence her possible motivations for bringing him into Luna's past.

Luna gazed at him blankly for a moment before replying. "Beheading, I imagine," she finally answered sedately. "That was the sentence for traitors back in those days."

Harry leaned forward, surprised. The young woman hardly seemed the traitorous type. "She was a traitor? What'd she do?"

Luna shook her head. "Only what she'd been ordered to do by the King's ministers, under pain of death," she said sadly. "Which was to give false testimony at the Queen's trial. But once they got what they wanted they had her executed, too. But history only recorded Catherine Howard's fate."

Harry was horrified. He couldn't imagine being forced to betray one's loyalties only to be betrayed in turn...it would be the worst possible end. No wonder she hadn't crossed over!

"That...that's awful," he voiced dispiritedly.

"Yes, isn't it?" agreed Luna. "It's interesting that she would show up in your dream...but then, she has shown an interest lately in keeping up with current events. Biscuit?"

They looked at each other. Luna wore that quirky half-smile that Harry found so hard to read.

"Eh?" said Harry, wondering if he'd momentarily blacked out through part of their conversation.

"I made some biscuits for Santa," explained Luna, getting to her feet in a graceful rocking motion. "He's fond of gingerbread in particular, I discovered. I made a full batch this morning, so I have some extra...I'm going to have one before I go to bed, would you like some?"

Harry declined the offer; it was nearing midnight, and he wasn't keen on going to bed with an overfull stomach -- he'd had enough of nightmares for one night. He'd been quite prepared to sleep on the sofa but Luna offered a proper bed in their guest room ("you're not supposed to see Santa when he comes in"), and so she led Harry upstairs to the mill's fourth floor. Moving down the short central hallway, Harry paused at a bedroom decorated with a large collection of old stuffed toy animals (among which were several pandas scattered about the bedspread), ceramic figurines and dollhouses.

"Hey, nice room," he commented, nodding. "It's cozy...nice dollhouses! I didn't realize you collected."

Luna looked at him. "That's Daddy's room," she stated airily. "Some of the dollhouses he built, the rest he got from an old Muggle friend of the family...I'll tell him you liked it, though!"

Harry glanced between the pandas and Luna. "What, you mean -- isn't this your room?" he asked disbelievingly. "But what about all those...er..."

"Daddy doesn't believe in gender stereotyping," said Luna proudly. "He says that's for the addle-minded."

Harry chortled. "Yeah, I can tell! If I'd tried decorating my dorm like that I'd have been laughed -- "

Luna's eyes widened. Harry immediately kicked himself: how could he have been so insensitive?

"I didn't mean -- I wasn't making fun -- "

Luna took a step towards him, her hand raised --

Harry recoiled instinctively. Was he about to get slapped? It hardly seemed possible; even where her father was concerned, Luna would never respond violently. But then, what was going on?

"Don't shrink away," cautioned Luna, stepping forward again. She was now so close he could detect various hues of silver in her wide, misty eyes. Harry was up against the wall as he found himself quite unwilling to move...or even blink.

Luna inched closer until they were almost nose-to-nose. "Hold very still," she whispered as she slowly drew her hand closer, though Harry paid little attention: he was much too preoccupied gazing intently into those strangely misty orbs -- in her pupils he could see himself staring back, an expression of sheer stupefaction on his face.

Luna's fingers suddenly moved, their tips brushing ever so lightly against the bridge of Harry's nose. He bumped his head lightly against the wall, startled.

"Wha -- what was that all about?"

Luna stood back slightly. She held her fingers up at eye level, a finger pinched at an angle against her thumb.

"Goodness, Harry," she voiced in surprise, "couldn't you feel that?"

Harry rubbed his nose in reflex, mystified as to what had just occurred. "Feel? What was I supposed to feel?"

Luna moved her hand closer before him.

"What?" asked Harry. "I don't follow -- "

His eyes refocused. That's when he saw it.

A transluscent, vaguely crayfish-like creature was struggling to free itself, its spindly tail held fast between Luna's thumb and forefinger. The creature was tiny -- no more than a fruit fly in size, though for all that, much harder to see.

"Gah!" exclaimed Harry, wiping his face feverishly. "What in blazes is that?"

"It's a Nargle, of course," replied Luna as she strolled into her father's bedroom. Pushing aside the thin lace curtain, she opened the window and released her captive to the elements. "You must have picked it up at the Cauldron -- all our mistletoe here is Nargle-free."

Harry was scratching his head as she rejoined him. "You mean...that really was a Nargle? There's really such a thing?"

"Sure there is," said Luna assuredly. "I thought you knew that. It's a good thing you didn't get stung, otherwise your nose would've swollen up like a grapefruit."

"Eh, that bad?" said Harry, carefully feeling his nose for any soreness.

"Oh yes," replied Luna, her eyes popping excitedly. "Then gangrene would set in and it would've eventually dropped off...but that would take days, and we have medicine for that down in the pantry..."

"Oh...well, good thing, then..."

"Hmm," said Luna, looking him over. "You know, you might have more..."

The thought of other such beasties lying somewhere unseen on him filled Harry with nervousness. "Do you really think...?"

"Well, they're usually found in small colonies," explained Luna. "So there might be...I suppose we could burn your clothes, if you like."

Harry gawked at her. "What? No! I mean -- isn't there some other way?"

Luna pondered the question. "Well, we could set out a small bowl of cinnamon in your room," she suggested after a moment's reflection.

"Cinnamon?" repeated Harry. "How'll that get rid of them?"

"It won't," corrected Luna, suddenly taking to swooping her arms through the air as if she were gliding off a mountaintop. "It'll attract them. Nargles will gorge themselves on cinnamon above all else, you know."

Harry ducked one of her outswept hands. "But if...oh, I get it," he said in dawning comprehension. "Sort of like the Pied Piper in reverse, right?"

Luna stopped in 'mid-air' and turned to look at him.

"Who?"

"The Pied Piper," repeated Harry.

They looked at each other for several moments in silence.

"You know," prodded Harry, "the Pied Piper of Hamelin?"

Luna shook her head. "Is he a plumber?"

Harry could scarcely believe it. "A plumb -- no," he said, astonished that Luna might be unaware of the tale. "It was hundreds of years ago, way before plumbers. The Pied Piper. Of Hamelin."

Luna dropped her arms to her side and continued to look at him blankly.

"The bloke who led the hordes of rats away from the village of Hamelin," he explained. "Saved the town from disaster."

"Really? What charm did he use?"

He didn't use a charm," answered Harry, stroking his chin as he thought back to the tale. "At least I don't think...no, he just played a flute, and the rats followed him out of the village."

Harry had never seen it coming. By the time Luna had recovered sufficiently from her raucous fit of laughter to speak vaguely coherently, he was leaning up against the wall, hands in his pockets, and utterly bewildered. Though he was, at least, in better spirits than he'd been a short while before -- Luna's chime-like laughter was nothing if not contagious. And in truth, he was happy to see her laughing: the disturbing memory of a very distraught Luna had weighed heavily on his mind.

"Pied..._Piper!_" she cried breathlessly, looking at Harry through tear-filled eyes.

"You know, I should've gotten you a Muggle fairytale book for Christmas," said Harry, wishing that he'd thought of it before. "I can't believe you've never heard the story. What's so funny about it, anyway?"

"Oh, come on," said Luna, her airy voice speckled with mirth as she wiped her eyes. "I play the cornamuse, but I've never once had a horde of rats follow me about...you come up with the funniest stories, Harry! Plus he's pied!"

Harry put up his hands. "Hey, I never said it was supposed to make sense," he said in his defense. "That's just how the story goes. It's a fairy tale, like Jack and the Beanstalk."

"Who?"

"Jack and the -- now don't tell me," said Harry at the sight of Luna's inquisitive stare. "You've never heard of that one either."

Luna shook her head.

"Sleeping Beauty?"

"That doesn't ring a bell."

"Hansel and Gretel?"

"The Vaudeville act?"

"Um...no. Little Red Riding Hood?"

"I'm afraid not."

Harry sighed and rubbed his brow. "When this is all over, I'm going to bring you up to speed on this stuff," he promised. "How can you read so much without knowing any of those? They're classic bedtime stories!"

"Well, I suppose they just never came up," said Luna. "I don't think mum would have known any of the Muggle stories. But then, I always had so many questions at bedtime that my parents likely had their hands full just answering those. Daddy says I was a quite inquisitive sort in those days."

" 'In those days'?" questioned Harry teasingly, raising an eyebrow.

Luna looked at him curiously. "Well, yes," she said vaguely. "Haven't you ever wondered how a fly lands on a ceiling without using magic?"

"Um, I've never lost sleep over it," replied Harry truthfully, stretching his arms over his head (and bumping one of the hovering lanterns) while vainly trying to stifle a yawn.

"How can you not wonder?" asked Luna, her head tilted quizzically. "But you're right though, we really should be turning in before Santa arrives, it would be rather discourteous..."

She led Harry to the small guestroom at the end of the hall, which appeared to be doubling as a storeroom for stacks of Quibbler back issues.

"Yes, it is a bit cluttered," Luna had said. "But with all the interest in the Quibbler since last year Daddy's had to keep a larger supply of back issues on hand -- there's quite a demand for them!"

Cluttered or not, Harry didn't mind. The room, though small, was cozy enough. A modest bed stood flanked by an battered old dresser and a small, bowlegged nightstand. Leaning up against the curved outer wall next to the stacks of Quibbler magazines was a terribly warped trombone and a small box filled with what appeared to be piano keys. A small shuttered window over the bed and a rusty lamp on the nightstand shared lighting duties. There was no closet -- simple pegs on the wall handled such chores.

"It's not much," said Luna as she lit the lamp, "but it's more comfortable than sleeping on the couch, especially if the brownies get into the cider again this year...I think I've hidden it quite well, though."

Harry smiled at her. "This'll do fine, thanks...remember, I used to sleep in a cupboard."

As Luna left to fetch the cinnamon, Harry sat on the edge of the bed and riffled through a copy of the most recent Quibbler magazine. The front cover bore a headline vaguely appropriate to the times: "Death Eaters - What Do They Really Eat?" which elicited from Harry a chuckle, as did an article on page three devoted to the exposure of the latest Ministry plot involving specially trained chickens, cursed toenail clippers and exploding eggs.

It wasn't long before Luna returned, bowl in hand. She placed it on the dresser and advised Harry to dump the contents out the window in the morning, as it would by then be infested with Nargles, assuming of course, he was still a carrier.

"Thanks, Luna," said Harry, putting the magazine aside.

She smiled brightly at him.

"It's no trouble," she said airily. "We keep loads of cinnamon on hand, you know, just in case. Well...Happy Christmas, Harry!"

"No," amended Harry as Luna turned to go, "I mean...thanks for everything. I wasn't talking about the cinnamon."

Luna turned back at the door, her eyes locking with his. For once, Luna seemed caught genuinely by surprise.

"Everything's an awful lot, Harry," she said. "I could never take credit for so much -- "

"I know," replied Harry. "I just...what I'm trying to say...I'm really glad we're friends. I mean that."

Luna observed him curiously for a moment, before suddenly drawing forward and plopping down on the edge of the bed next to him.

"I'm very keen on that, too," she stated earnestly. "I have to say, I'm happy you decided to come today, Harry. I've missed you at school, and owls are never quite the same as speaking in person."

Harry smiled. "I missed you too," he echoed, warm memories of Luna and her outlandish lion hat flooding his thoughts. "I really wish I could've done this stuff from school, but it just wasn't practical..."

"Well, you might be back next year," chimed Luna, merrily swinging her legs back and forth. "You'll want to finish your schooling when this is over, yes? It'd be a shame if you became a hobo."

Harry guffawed at the prospect. "A hobo! Um, no, I don't think there's any risk of that...to tell the truth, I haven't really thought that far ahead, with all that's going on. I've been kind of...well, preoccupied."

Luna nodded. "Yes, you're becoming obsessed," she said simply.

"I...what?"

Luna leaned close. "With this Horcrux business. That's what happens when people think of only one thing for too long," she voiced knowingly. "It'll eventually drive one to madness, you know."

Harry grinned. "I guess that wouldn't happen to you, would it?"

Luna shook her head. "Oh no," she said seriously. "I like to keep two or three things in mind at once, that way one doesn't run the risk of madness...plus it helps to keep one's wits sharpened."

"Ah," said Harry, suddenly understanding where at least some of Luna's dreaminess stemmed from. "Makes sense...I think it'd have the opposite effect on me, though. I'd probably go mad trying; that or I'd be wearing my underwear on the outside without realizing it."

Luna gazed at him briefly, as if trying to picture him with his clothing so disarrayed. "Well, it might not be for everyone," she stated after a moment. "I've noticed that most people do seem to be rather single-minded...anyway..."

An odd feeling welled within Harry as she took his hand in hers.

"I will forever be your friend, Harry," she stated resolutely. "In this life and the next..."

Harry's emotions bubbled very near the surface. There was no subtleness to Luna's out-of-the-blue declaration; it was an expression of such profound friendship and affection that Harry found himself with his heart in his throat. What was it about this girl that affected him on so profound a level?

"Luna...I..."

But before he could finish choking the words out Luna smiled, and leaned forward to plant a delicate kiss on the tip of his nose.

"Happy dreams, Harry," she whispered mystically, her eyes sparkling strangely in the soft glow of the lamplight.

And with that, she slid smoothly off the bed, and was gone.

Harry sat there for a good while afterwards, still trying to understand what it was he'd just experienced. He'd felt a strange sensation course through him following Luna's peculiar expression of affection. But then, he'd never been kissed on the nose before, either.

As he lay back in bed, the sweet scent of cinnamon drifting lightly through the room, he tried to sort out a most confusing array of thoughts. Just what had that strange ghost intended to show him, and why?

More importantly, now that Luna had gone, he found himself wishing she hadn't left. For one thing, he had to tell her what he'd seen -- to not do so was unthinkable. She deserved nothing less.

But there was another reason, one was was just slowly dawning on him. Though there were times when she utterly mystified him, there was one undeniable constant: he'd come to thoroughly enjoy her company.

And truth be told, though he had not yet admitted it to himself, he could stare into those silvery eyes for hours on end...

As he finally drifted off into a deep slumber, his last conscious thoughts were of a young Ravenclaw girl standing before a bulletin board and gazing at him with a dreamy smile...


	5. Chapter 5

Happy Christmas, Harry Potter

Part 5

Harry awoke not with the frustratingly familiar start of the past months, but slowly and languidly, and more remarkably, without lingering nightmares of apocalyptic visions.

Even so, he had not been entirely bereft of dreams this night. They had, however, been more unusual than disturbing – even, he mused, rather intriguing. He briefly wondered how Professor Trelawney would have interpreted them; it seemed unlikely that romping through a sylvan glade could ever lend itself to be twisted into a vision of doom and death, but he had no doubt that the Divinations teacher would find a way to make it work, somehow.

He rolled over onto his back, the scent of cinnamon filling the small room. The mildly frosted window over his bed drew no light into the room; a blurry glance at his watch told him it was not yet six o'clock.

He stretched his arms out over his head and sighed, the events of the previous evening still weighing heavily on his mind. Should he tell Luna what he'd witnessed, even if it had been only in spirit? It seemed the only proper thing to do, but he was still utterly mystified as to the motivations behind the mysterious ghost's revelation – her abrupt disappearance having only compounded his curiosity.

One thing was certain: the sight of a visibly distraught Luna had shaken him to the core. From his previous conversations with the odd girl he'd come to imagine her as being somehow immune to the pains and miseries that were part of life. But she was most definitely not immune – rather, she possessed an inner strength, a unique set of values and beliefs which Luna held dear to her heart, an unshakeable faith that somehow, things would set themselves right in the end. It was a belief system Harry found himself wishing he could emulate.

But pushed beyond all limits, even she could succumb...

But then, he couldn't begin to imagine that sense off loss. The death of his own parents had taken place at an age when memories hadn't taken root. And though Sirius and Dumbledore's deaths had been terribly painful, he knew Luna's experience had been even worse. Harry had the distinct feeling that she'd been extraordinarily close to her mother, if her relationship to her father was any indication.

Faint, vaguely muffled voices emanated from downstairs. Had Mr. Lovegood returned at last, in the wee hours of the morning?

He swung his legs over the side and got up groggily. Recalling Luna's advice, he donned his glasses and checked out the small bowl of cinnamon atop the cabinet. Sure enough, it was infested with a small host of tiny, crayfish-like creatures!

Shuddering, he quickly disposed of the ghastly Nargles out the window. He proceeded to get dressed (earnestly hoping the tiny beasties had completely vacated his clothing) and made his way down the unlit hall, stopping briefly at what he assumed to be Luna's bedroom – though he could swear there hadn't been a door there the previous evening. Peering within, he found himself _out_side...and in midsummer, no less!

Lighting his wand, he quickly realized that he wasn't outdoors at all, but rather in a very oddly-decorated room, festooned with dried leaves for wallpaper, narrow bluestones for bedposts and interwoven vines for draperies. Several tree branches decorated with rustic garlands and homemade Christmas ornaments sprouted along the walls. A weathered old barrel stood in for a nightstand, atop which sat a small stack of magazines, a wooden cup and one rather thick, arcane-looking book, atop which was a small picture frame. Suspended from the ceiling throughout the room were scores of painted gourds of varying shapes and sizes, a few decorated in a holiday motif. Suspended under a large overhanging sombrero was a rickety birdcage, its delicate ribs made up of thin wooden branches. At the foot of the bed was a box filled with more of the same stone tablets Harry had seen before, their cryptic runes defying interpretation as stubbornly as their downstairs counterparts. If there was a closet, Harry couldn't see it. On the pillow was a small hawthorn twig with red, black and white ribbons, the significance of which Harry could only guess at.

His eyes fell again on the picture next to the bed (which, Harry noticed, was devoid of a blanket) in which he gleaned a small portrait, framed by honeysuckle and juniper. Curious, he took a half step inside, his feet making no sound on the mossy floor; It was the only painting he'd seen, in fact, since arriving.

_I shouldn't be in here_, he told himself. What if Luna walked in on him? He had no excuse, really – but he was strangely drawn to the portrait.

He slowly made his way to the nightstand next to the bed, holding his wand aloft. Gazing transfixed at the tiny scene before him, he beheld a lithe and lovely young woman sleeping peacefully under a large oak tree, surrounded by various denizens of the forest, all likewise slumbering: hares, squirrels, a hedgehog, a fox, indeed, even the birds were asleep in their nests.

The young woman's garb was highly unusual, being an odd mixture of interwoven silks, leaves and lichen. Her pale feet were bare, and draped across her knees was an unfurled manuscript of obviously great age, though the writing was entirely too small for Harry to make out. Even if she hadn't sported the familiarly long, pale blonde hair, Harry would have instantly known who she was. There was no doubt: he was looking at Luna's mother.

Peering closer, he noticed she sported a tiny pendant, which wasn't so unusual in itself, especially considering her daughter's own odd accoutrements, only...

He took his glasses off to focus more closely. He definitely recalled having seen that tiny silver pendant somewhere before, or one identical to it. He took the picture and held it an inch from his nose. The pendant almost reminded him of –

The young woman's eyes popped open.

Harry jerked back with a start, nearly dropping his glasses in the process. ཁOhཀ I...er – ཁ

She was on her feet in an instant, the parchment slipping off her legs to rest in the tall grasses. Clearly she wasn't happy at seeing him there, this intruder in her daughter's bedroom. Her unearthly pearlescent eyes bored straight into him; Harry felt a sudden sharp shiver down his spine and the hair on the back of his neck stood straight up. He hurriedly put the portrait frame back on the table.

He scampered back towards the doorway, fumbling to put his glasses on as he went. ཁS-sorry,ཁ he stammered as be bumped the door frame on his way out, nearly dropping his glasses again. ཁI'll just...er...be going...ཁ

He stood out in the hall, his breathing competing with his heart rate to see which would outrace the other. _Great, why'd I have to go in there_, he thought irritatingly to himself. _I'm going to have a boatload to tell her now, she'll think I'm a kook..._

Upon further reflection he realized a kook would be the last Luna would ever accuse him of being; she'd believed him unconditionally when ne one else had, after all. The thought filled Harry with a profound sense of relief.

He stopped at the washroom to splash water onto his face before making his way slowly down the curved staircase hugging the walls. He wondered if Luna was habitually an early riser – given her penchant for daydreaming, sleep wouldn't offer a remarkably different template for her imaginings.

As be made his way down past the cluttered printing shop on the second floor he began to make out a very faint, muffled voice from downstairs; female, definitely, but not Luna's. He moved more slowly as a second voice replied, the words equally muffled. Might one of them be the mysterious apparition from the previous evening?

He made his way quietly to the living room, the dampened voices drifting in from the kitchen. He approached silently, rolling his wand between his fingers as he peeked cautiously around the doorway.

There, seated at the small kitchen table, were two figures huddled under a large blanket, their voices muffled by the interposing layer of wool. Nonetheless, Harry immediately recognized one of them.

ཁ – hold the page up...see?" said Hermione. ཁIt shows up on the reverse only, and then only by candlelight. And not just any candle, either; it took me forever to find one of these. There aren't many places that carry Brazilian beeswax – um, what are you doing?"

Luna's voice drifted out from under the blanket. ཁYou take relish in your coffee, don't you?ཁ

ཁNoཀཁ exclaimed Hermione in horror as Harry covered his mouth to stifle a laugh. ཁNo, I'll just...I'll take mine black, thank you.ཁ

ཁAll right,ཁ voiced Luna. ཁMust we stay under the blanket though? It's getting hard to breathe...ཁ

ཁOh hush,ཁ admonished Hermione. ཁExposing the parchment to any other source of light will render it unreadable. Believe me, I've tried. Anyway, have a look at this...it's not Norse, is it?ཁ

Luna's blanket-covered head dropped slightly. ཁNo,ཁ she said, her voice doubly muffled by the wool and her lingering cold. ཁThis is much earlier...this is Futhorc.ཁ

Hermione's head leaned closer to the table's centre. ཁFuthorc? They don't teach that at Hogwarts...are you sure?ཁ

Luna nodded vigorously as parchment was being flipped under the blanket. ཁOh yes,ཁ she said earnestly. "Mum wrote her notes in this sometimes, in case the Ministry ever tried to seize her research...she didn't trust them very much, you know. She always suspected they might try and use her discoveries for – ཁ

ཁTangent.ཁ

ཁ – their own nefarious purp – I'm sorry. it's definitely Furthoc. Yes, I'm quite certain.ཁ

ཁBut how would Regulus...never mind,ཁ said Hermione. ཁAll right, let's assume for the moment that these are Furthoc – ཁ

ཁSilbury Hill.ཁ

ཁ – and...what?ཁ

ཁSilbury Hill,ཁ repeated Luna as Harry quietly edged into the kitchen. ཁThat's what it says.ཁ

There followed silence as Hermione slouched back in her chair.

ཁYou're thinking,ཁ remarked Luna after several moments.

ཁYes,ཁ affirmed Hermione. ཁI don't understand it...Silbury Hill? That makes no senseཀཁ

ཁWhy doesn't it?ཁ asked Luna, her curiosity mirroring Harry's; clearly they were discussing Regulus' frustratingly and heretofore unrevealing journal.

ཁSilbury Hill is an ancient bronze age mound,ཁ explained Hermione. ཁIt's not that far from here, actually. But the Muggles have been making exploratory digs there for centuries, it's definitely not a recent thing. There's just no way you-know – Voldemort – could have hidden a Horcrux there. Or would have wanted to...it's entirely too exposed and easily accessible."

She sighed despondently. ཁYou know, I really thought that journal would clue us in,ཁ she said after a moment's reflection. ཁBut I'm beginning to think it was a plant to throw us off.ཁ

ཁMaybe he made it that way to thwart the reader, in case he was discovered,ཁ suggested Luna. ཁThose Death Eater people wouldn't have looked very kindly on a traitor in their midsts, would they?ཁ

ཁNo, I suppose they wouldn't...ཁ

Long moments of silence passed. Harry had a fleeting urge to grab their shoulders though the blanket to give them a good scare, but resisted – there was entirely too much brainpower at work under there to risk interrupting them.

ཁLook what I'm making," said Luna, "That's a Crumple-Horned Snorkack...oops, I'm short one finger for the horns...you'll have to use you imagination, there...I'm not very good at shadow puppetteering...ཁ

ཁYes, it's very nice,ཁ mused Hermione unenthusiastically. ཁI'm beginning to get the feeling we're on a wild goose chase, honestly. Three completely different locations, none of which show even a hint of ever having been used for hiding anything, let alone – ཁ

ཁMaybe we're not looking at it the right way,ཁ interjected Luna thoughtfully. ཁWe are being rather literal, aren't we?ཁ

Hermione straightened slightly. Harry could tell even through the blanket that she was ready to grasp at whatever straw presented itself, no matter how unlikely.

ཁWhat are you saying?ཁ she prodded, the seriousness of her voice contrasting starkly with her usual reaction to one of Luna's outlandish theories.

Harry looked on as Luna poked her finger in the blanket at three different locations. ཁThree points on a map,ཁ she said simply. ཁMaybe the locations that Regulus fellow described were never intended to conceal the Horcruxes themselves, but to point the way...ཁ

Hermione drew in a sharp breath. ཁTriangulationཀཁ she exclaimed. ཁOh but...it just might...an extra layer of security, just as a paranoid infiltrator might use...Luna, that's just...that just might workཀ ཁ

ཁIt's worth a try, I think,ཁ echoed Luna. ཁWell, now that that's settled, it's getting rather hard to breathe under here – ཁ

A disheveled blonde head popped out from under the blanket and immediately gazed up at Harry in the doorway. ཁOh, hello,ཁ she said, smiling dreamily. ཁAnd Happy Christmasཀཁ

Hermione threw off her end of the blanket. ཁOh, Mister Lovegoo – _Harry??_ཁ

ཁHi, Hermione,ཁ said he, smiling in turn. ཁFancy meeting you here. I knew kocking you two heads together would pay off...you're onto something aren't you?ཁ

Hermione, in contrast, sat in utter stupefaction, looking repeatedly between Luna and Harry in turn. ཁBut...what are you doing _here?_ཁ she finally managed to utter after regaining a smidgen of composure. ཁWeren't you supposed to be at the Burrow?ཁ

ཁWell, acually,ཁ said Harry, scratching his head, ཁI thought that's where you were.ཁ

ཁI spent yesterday at home,ཁ explained Hermione, still taken aback at Harry's presence. ཁI was going to the Burrow this morning, but I wanted to stop by here before...oh Harry, they're going to be worried sickཀཁ

ཁNo worries,ཁ consoled Harry, ཁI owled them to let them know.ཁ

Hermione gaped at him as she leaned forward. ཁYou _owled_ them??ཁ

ཁWell, sure,ཁ he replied. ཁWhy, where's the problem?ཁ

ཁThe...ཁ

Hermione seemed at a loss. She blinked repeatedly, looking decidedly uncomfortable. ཁWell, it's just...there's no problem, I suppose,ཁ she said hesitantly. ཁI suppose if Mr. Lovegood's fine with it, that should – ཁ

ཁDaddy's in Copenhagen, actually,ཁ chimed Luna as she blew out a short, tallow candle.

To Hermione this particular news seemed to come as an even greater shock. ཁHe...he's not here?? But I thought...what's he doing in Copenhagen??ཁ

ཁWaiting for the Floo network to get up and running again,ཁ said Luna. ཁHe's been stuck there the last couple of days since all the problems started. I'd hoped he'd be back by now, but...ཁ

Hermione spun around and gaped at Harry.

ཁWhat?ཁ he asked innocently.

She bolted from her chair, grabbed his wrist and half-dragged him into the living room.

ཁHey, what gives? Leggoཀཁ

But she would not, at least until she'd dragged him to the fireplace, at which point she finally released her grip and whirled on him.

ཁHarry, have you taken leave of your senses??ཁ

ཁExcuse me? What did _I_ do?ཁ he asked, uncomprehending.

ཁYou knew Mr. Lovegood wasn't here, and you came _anyway?_ཁ

ཁWell, sure,ཁ replied Harry, Hermione's accusatory tone immediately forcing him onto the defensive. ཁI didn't want Luna to be alone at Christmas. Why, what exactly are you getting at?ཁ

Hermione rolled her eyes. ཁHarry, don't you see how that could – Luna, do you mind??ཁ

Harry turned to see Luna standing right behind him; evidently she'd followed them from the kitchen.

ཁNot at all,ཁ she said whimsically, staying rooted to the spot. Wether she misunderstood Hermione's supplication or chose to ignore it, Harry couldn't tell.

ཁOh, for – ཁ

Hermione grabbed Harry's hand once more and dragged him, squawking and protesting, up the staircase to the mill's printing works on the second floor.

ཁWill you stop itཀཁ barked Harry angrily as she finally let go of his sleeve, closing the door behind them. ཁWe're not going to talk behind Luna's back in her own homeཀཁ

ཁHarry, thinkཀཁ exclaimed Hermione, tapping the side of her head. ཁYou came here knowing Luna was alone, can't you see what that looks like??ཁ

ཁNow, wait a minuteཀཁ retorted Harry. ཁJust what are you accusing me of?ཁ

ཁI'm not accusing you of anythingཀཁ countered Hermione, her hands gesticulating agitatedly. ཁI'm just asking you to consider what it looks like, now that you went and owled the Weasleys – think of what must be going through Ginny's mind right nowཀཁ

ཁWell maybe I'm more concerned with how things are, than what they look like,ཁ shot back Harry, his irritation rising by the moment – why was Hermione determined to blow everything out of proportion?

But his last argument seemed to have made an impression, as Hermione hesitated for a moment; when she did speak again, it was in a more careful, measured tone.

ཁHarry, remember when I asked Luna for her help with researching all this business with the Horcruxes, you asked me to keep her involvement in all this between us...for Ginny's sake...ཁ

ཁI remember,ཁ countered Harry warily, shifting from one foot to another. ཁWhat's that got to do with anything?ཁ

Hermione took a deep breath. ཁHarry...you have to consider Ginny's feelings in this,ཁ she began slowly. ཁIt's not just about how it looks – I'll agree with you that much – but you haven't exactly been very, well, communicative with Ginny over the last few months. How am I going to explain your staying with Luna?ཁ

ཁThere's nothing to explain,ཁ stated Harry firmly. ཁNobody owns me, Hermione, I don't have to ask anyone's permission to hang out with my friends.ཁ

ཁThat's not what I meant,ཁ said Hermione, rubbing her temples tiredly. She sighed and took a deep breath. ཁLook, there's still time...you've spent Christmas Eve here, I'm sure Luna appreciated that. Why don't you spend today at the Burrow? I'm sure it'll go a long way towards – ཁ

ཁWhat, and just abandon Luna?ཁ asked Harry disbelievingly. ཁAnd a Happy Christmas to you tooཀཁ

Hermione looked at him in shock. ཁNo, of course I wasn't suggesting that,ཁ she replied. ཁLook, I'll stay with Luna. I have a Portkey in my satchel you can use, it'll connect to Mr. Weasley's shed – ཁ

ཁNo, Hermione, I already told Luna I'd spend Christmas here,ཁ countered Harry. ཁI _want_ to be here, you'd only be doing it as a favour. And anyway, you talk about Ginny's feelings, what about Ron's?ཁ

Hermione put her hands on her hips and regarded him with a look vaguely reminiscent of McGonagall upon one of Neville's failed Transfiguration charms. ཁHarry, it's not the same at allཀཁ

ཁHow is it different?ཀཁ

Hermione sighed. ཁWell for one, Ron's not likely to think I'm having an affair with Luna behind his back now, is he?ཁ

Harry felt a surge of anger swell within him. ཁOh greatཀཁ he snapped. ཁSo that's what Ginny thinks, is that what you're saying?ཁ

ཁI – that's not what I'm saying at allཀཁ stammered Hermione awkwardly.

ཁYou may as wellཀཁ pressed Harry. ཁYou're implying it strongly enoughཀཁ

Hermione opened her mouth and just as quickly closed it. She'd argued herself into a corner, and both she and Harry knew it. They stared at each other for several long moments before Hermione finally broke the silence.

ཁHarry, I didn't come here to argue...ཁ she said in a little voice.

ཁWell you're doing a great job of _that_,ཁ berated Harry – and immediately wished he hadn't. ཁHey, no, Hermione, wait, I didn't mean -- ཁ

She'd sat down heavily atop a huge bundle of bulk parchment and buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking with anguish. Harry was mortified; he'd only been defending himself, after all...

He knelt down beside Hermione and gently rubbed her back. ཁHermione, I'm sorry,ཁ he said soothingly, ཁI didn't mean to snap at you like that...I guess I'm just a little...defensive these days...ཁ

ཁNo...no, it's my fault,ཁ sobbed Hermione, shaking her head in her hands. ཁI should never have gotten involved...ཁ

Harry frowned slightly. ཁInvolved in what?ཁ

ཁHarry,ཁ she choked, ཁsometimes...good intentions...just aren't enough...ཁ

ཁOkay...you've lost me.ཁ

Hermione's sobs slowly subsided, and Harry didn't press the matter. She took a deep breath and straightened up slightly, clumsily wiping her moist cheeks with equally damp hands.

ཁHarry,ཁ she said, sniffling, ཁif you want to stay with Luna until her father gets back...it's all right.ཁ

Harry blinked. He hadn't anticipated such an about-face. ཁIt is?ཁ

Hermione nodded and wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands. ཁYes,ཁ she said, her voice still tinged with a slight tremor. ཁIn fact, it was very thoughtful of you...I'm sure Luna will appreciate the company...ཁ

ཁWell, I appreciate hers, too.ཁ said Harry, relaxing a little. ཁAnd to tell the truth, I needed a break, Hermione...from everything.ཁ

Hermione looked at him, a glimmer of a smile forming on her tear-stained face. ཁShe is good at that, isn't she?ཁ she said, nodding, her voice regaining some of its energy. ཁI have to admit, I've turned to her myself more than a few times over the last months...ཁ

Harry raised his eyebrows in genuine surprise. He took an improvised seat on the huge stack of paper next to Hermione's. ཁYou have?ཁ

She nodded as she rubbed her hands on her lap to dry them. ཁOh yes,ཁ she said. ཁWith all the pressures of school, researching Regulus' journal, coordinating with the Order, it can get...well, overwhelming at times. Luna's been a godsend, she really has.ཁ

Harry smiled. ཁI can believe it,ཁ he said in understanding. ཁShe really fond of you too, by the way.ཁ

Hermione expression brightened considerably. ཁShe told you that?ཁ

ཁEr...ཁ

Harry hesitated. He still didn't quite know what to make of the previous night's events, and he was loathe to discuss them without speaking to Luna first.

ཁNot exactly,ཁ he finally stated, ཁI kind of...overheard her.ཁ

Hermione ogled him curiously. ཁOverheard?ཁ she repeated. ཁI thought you were the only ones here, yes? Who was she talking to?ཁ

ཁEh...well...a tree, actually.ཁ

Hermione looked thoughtful. ཁI wish I could do that,ཁ she said softly after a moment, much to Harry's surprise. ཁIt would have come in very handy a few years ago...ཁ

ཁWhat, talking to trees?ཁ asked Harry. ཁYou really think she can?ཁ

ཁI've seen her do it before,ཁ explained Hermione. ཁJust before Hallowe'en I found her sitting right against the Whomping Willow, having a lengthy conversation with _someone_...it took me a moment to realize just what it was she was talking to,ཁ she leaned closer to emphasize the next point, ཁHarry, it never made so much as a move against her. Nothing.ཁ

They stared at each other. ཁShe really can then,ཁ concluded Harry. ཁOr at least, make herself understood to them.ཁ

ཁI don't know how, but yes,ཁ agreed Hermione. ཁI'm not aware of any spell or charm that can...I wonder if...ཁ

A look of dawning realization crossed her face.

ཁWhat?ཁ

ཁHarry...can I confide something to you?ཁ

Harry guffawed. ཁYou're joking, right?ཁ

ཁI don't mean it that way,ཁ said Hermione apologetically. ཁI just don't want you to tell Luna, because I'm still working on it...but...ཁ

She rose from the stack of papers and made her way to the mill's wind-powered printing press. Though her back was to Harry, he could tell from her body language that she was treading into delicate territory.

ཁI wanted to do something for Luna's birthday,ཁ she began slowly. ཁI mean, I thought it would be nice if someone...anyway...I'm not very good at crafts, you see, so...ཁ

ཁNo kidding, I remember those hats,ཁ needled Harry, recalling Hermione's miserable first attempts at creating garments for the House-Elves.

She turned around. ཁI decided to do her family tree,ཁ she annouced. ཁLike the one the Blacks had at Grimmauld Place – only nicer to look at, of course. I thought she might really like to see her family history charted out, but, well...ཁ

She drifted off. Her gaze had been drawn to a small bundle of Blackthorn twigs tightly bound together with dark green thread on what Harry presumed was Mr. Lovegood's cluttered writing desk.

ཁThere was...a problem.ཁ

ཁWhat?ཁ asked Harry, moving to join her.

She looked at him. ཁI was able to trace her father's line back to Edward the Confessor's time fairly easily, all things considered. I might be able to go further back if I do some more digging, but...Harry, I couldn't find anything about Luna's mother. At all. It's almost as though she didn't exist in the eyes of the wizarding worldཀཁ

Harry chuckled. ཁOh, she exists, all right,ཁ he corrected. ཁI saw her just a little while ago.ཁ

Hermione was stunned. ཁYou did?ཁ

ཁUh-huh, there's a small picture of her in Luna's bed...room. Whoops.ཁ

Hermione's eyes widened. ཁI'll pretend I didn't hear that.ཁ

ཁIt wasn't like thatཀཁ amended Harry hastily. ཁI was just – I didn't remember seeing a room there last night, I just sort of wandered in...I didn't touch anythingཀཁ

Hermione eyed him critically, but this time Harry had no riposte. He knew he really had no justification besides rampant curiosity for going into Luna's room. As it was, all he could was shrug sheepishly.

ཁI was planning to tell her, if that helps,ཁ he finally conceded.

ཁI hope so!" said Hermione. "So...what did she look like?ཁ

Harry did a double-take. ཁHuh?ཁ

Hermione moved closer. ཁDid she look...well...normal, to you?ཁ

ཁEr...ཁ Harry hesitated. ཁWhat do you define as normal?ཁ

Hermione was clearly struggling with herself; Harry had the distinct impression she was holding something back. ཁHarry, don't you find it at all odd that there are no records of her anywhere? The only thing I've been able to find out is that her name was Maia, and that's only because Professor McGonagall was able to find her school grades...but I don't have so much as a date of birthཀཁ

Harry frowned. ཁWhat are you saying?ཁ

ཁI'm not sure,ཁ admitted Hermione, chewing her lower lip in thought. ཁEither the Ministry has gone to a _lot_ of trouble erasing any trace of her from the Wizarding record, or – ཁ

At that moment a large black shape fluttered past with a loud squawk, causing Harry to stumble backwards and fumble for his wand. ཁHermione, get downཀཁ

ཁIt's all rightཀཁ she said after having lit her own wand. ཁIt's Nevermore – look, he's got a messageཀཁ

The crow had perched itself on one of the rafters directly overhead, eyeing them warily, a tiny parchment wrapped around its leg.

ཁWe should get Luna,ཁ said Harry. ཁIt might be from – whoops, there he goes...ཁ

They took off at a run as the crow flew down the staircase. By the time they'd reached the kitchen, Luna was already unwrapping the note from Nevermore's leg, the latter pecking away happily at his treats on the counter. Hermione quickly moved to stash away Regulus' journal into her satchel under the table.

ཁAny news?ཁ asked Harry as he joined Luna.

ཁIt's from Daddyཀཁ she said excitedly. ཁHe says the weather's breaking...the Danish Ministry is discussing the possibility of subsidizing the cost of Muggle aeroplane tickets for all stranded wizarding folk...he might be back by tonightཀཁ

ཁAssuming the weather here clears up,ཁ interjected Hermione. ཁMuggle planes can't land in this weather any more than they can take off in it...but that's the least of our worries.ཁ

Harry turned to her. ཁHow do you mean?ཁ

Hermione ran a hand back through her hair. ཁThis business with the Floo network being down,ཁ she explained. ཁIt makes me very nervous; it wouldn't just shut down by itself – this has to be one of Voldemort's machinations.ཁ

ཁOh, I like that word,ཁ said Luna hazily.

ཁWell, let's not worry about that now,ཁ countered Harry, his eyes falling upon the candle and cups on the table. ཁYou guys figured something out from Regulus' journal, didn't you? Are we close?ཁ

ཁOh...well, we might be,ཁ explained Hermione, extinguishing her wand and taking her coat from the seatback. ཁLuna's theory about triangulation is certainly plausible. It would explain why the other two sites turned up nothing, for one...but that's for another time.ཁ

ཁEh?ཁ said Harry. ཁShouldn't we be checking it out? Luna, do you have a map – ཁ

ཁNo, Harry,ཁ chided Hermione as she donned her winter coat. ཁThat Horcrux isn't going anywhere...it's Christmas, you should be enjoying it.ཁ

ཁBut – ཁ

ཁNo buts,ཁ affirmed his brown-haired friend. ཁI still have to coordinate this with the Order, don't forget, assuming it even pans out. In the meantime,ཁ she said, shouldering her satchel, ཁI'll go do some damage control at the Burrow...Luna, I'm really sorry I called on you so early in the morning like this, but – ཁ

ཁI don't mind,ཁ chimed Luna. ཁThat's why Daddy gave you our Portkey – you're welcome here anytime.ཁ

Hermione bit her lip. She gave both Harry and Luna a parting hug before making for the doorway through the living room. She's barely slipped into her boots when a distinct fizzling sound emanated from the kitchen.

ཁOops,ཁ said Luna as she scurried back hurriedly, ཁI think the pickles are overdone...ཁ

Harry and Hermione looked at each other, the latter with a decidedly bemused look on her face. ཁI'm not even going to ask...ཁ She opened the door to go.

ཁWhat did he confess to, by the way?ཁ asked Harry.

Hermione paused in the doorway. ཁWhat did who confess to?ཁ

ཁThat Eddie the Confessor bloke,ཁ said Harry.

Hermione looked lost. ཁWhat??ཁ

ཁYou said you traced Luna's father's line back to his reign,ཁ explained Harry further. ཁYou never said what he confessed to.ཁ

Hermione slowly shook her head. ཁHarry, you just pulled a Luna,ཁ she ribbed lightly.

Harry raised his eyebrows. ཁI did?ཁ

She nodded. ཁYes...at least...that's what Ron calls it when...well...ཁ

ཁYou too?ཁ Harry smiled impishly. ཁShe's contagiousཀཁ

Hermione looked nothing if not embarrassed. ཁTo tell the truth, I wouldn't mind catching whatever it is she has,ཁ she murmured furtively as Luna drifted back in from the kitchen. ཁAt least in small doses, anyway...ཁ

ཁAre you sure you won't stay for breakfast?ཁ asked Luna, wiping her hands on a towel. ཁI ruined the pickles but I can substitute something else, I'm making Christmas crepes, it's a new recipe I'm making up as I go..."

Hermione smiled at her. "That's really sweet, Luna," she said. "But I really have to get going...I told the Weasleys I'd be there by now..."

She looked at the two of them thoughtfully. For a moment Harry thought he saw a look of dawning realization on her face. Her mouth opened slightly –

"Why didn't I..." she whispered.

"Eh?" asked Harry as a chilly winter breeze whipped at his collar.

But Hermione only blinked. She stepped out onto the snow-covered cobblestone walkway, reached into her satchel and pulled out a toothbrush. Tapping it with her wand, she disappeared with a bang, but not before Harry thought he detected a hint of a smile on her face.

_What was that all about_, he mused.

Luna, for her part, was gazing toward the early morning skies which were only just beginning to glow with the pale gray of an early winter dawn. He found it unusual that she didn't seem at all miffed (or even curious) about what he and Hermione had discussed in private.

"It's going to be a lovely day," she whispered, though Harry wasn't sure if she was addressing him.

"You think so?"

She turned to him. "I don't think you're a conceited ape at all," she announced.

Harry blinked. "Er...you don't?"

She shook her head.

Harry was under the now familiar impression he'd somehow missed part of a conversation. "Well...thanks!"

Luna smiled as they retreated back into the warm confines of the mill. "I'm going to have to start my crepes over," she said. "If there a flavour in particular you prefer?"

"Um, well..."

Harry hesitated. The idea of pickle-flavoured crepes were not appealing to his palette.

"You know, I could help you make them," he offered hopefully. "I know my way around a kitchen – "

"Oh, that's all right," said Luna. "I can manage...they're not hard to make at all. Would you like any particular variety?"

Harry was stuck. He didn't want to insist on making his own lest he imply he didn't trust her cooking. But...pickles??

"Well...anything but...pickles," he finally managed to utter. "Surprise me."

The words were no sooner out than he realized just what he'd said. "That is...don't surprise me _too_ much – " he corrected himself again " – I'm sort of old-fashioned when it comes to cuisine, no offense."

"How about Crepe Suzette?" suggested Luna. "I have some raspberries that would go very well with that, I think."

Harry's shoulders relaxed a little. "That's great!" he exclaimed in relief. "Well...listen, do you mind if I borrow your shower for just a bit?" he asked, gesturing upstairs. "I can really use one."

Luna nodded earnestly. "Yes, you do," she said much to his astonishment. "Please do Harry – just remember about the pipes!"

"The pipes? Oh, right!" he said, as he bounded off up the stairs. "I won't be long!"

He wasn't halfway up the stairs when he remembered about being in Luna's bedroom. He had to tell her now, before he forgot...or worse.

He ran back down and very nearly ran into her at the doorway to the kitchen – she was evidently bringing her blanket back to her bedroom.

"Luna, I wanted to tell you something," he began just as he caught sight of something hanging from the rafter directly overhead. His eyes drifted upwards.

It was a sprig of decorated mistletoe.


End file.
